


The Night Spirit

by NeutralGround



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Superheroes, post-lok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 52,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeutralGround/pseuds/NeutralGround
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as Batsami Begins. In the aftermath of Amon's rebellion, Republic City is left in ruins. The question posed by the Equalists has never been answered, and the tensions between benders and non-benders have never been higher. Crime threatens to engulf the city, and now a terrible evil is rising from the dark. The old protectors of Republic City cannot stop this new nightmare. Now is the time for a non-bender to rise.</p>
<p>Now is the time for Asami Sato to take up the mantle of the Batwoman, and show this city that it's still worth saving. And that everyone deserves the right to save it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

_Chapter One_

                He really shouldn’t have been out after dark. The city hadn’t been safe for weeks, not since … all that mess.  He couldn’t bend, and he’d never been particularly good at fighting. He was just a blacksmith’s apprentice, promised extra work in light of the damage to the city. He had to take the shifts; his family’s house had been nearly destroyed by the chaos that had erupted when Amon had taken the city.

                He darted down an alley that would get him home quicker, dismissing the apprehension in his chest. He’d be fine. There was no way that anyone could know he was a non-bender by looking at him, right?

                He could’ve sworn he heard movement behind him. He stopped and looked. Nothing. He breathed a little easier and advanced down the alley.

                A burst of fire exploded at his feet.

                “Ah!” He leapt back, slipped on ice that hadn’t been there a moment before, and fell hard. The air burst out of his lungs in an explosion of pain. He grimaced and gingerly felt for his side. One of his ribs felt cracked. “What—what the?”

                “Does this look like the guy, Zhang?”

                A young man in Fire Nation clothing walked forward and picked the boy up ruthlessly, jostling the strained ribs. He glared at the unfortunate kid with wild hatred beneath dark brows.

                “Could be. Sure feels like I saw him at an Equalist rally.” He grunted and threw the boy to the ground, making a fire dagger in one hand. “Filthy Equalist scum!”

                “I—I’m not an Equalist!” the blacksmith’s apprentice cried out, shielding his face with his hands. The heat coming from the fire dagger was making him sweat. “I promise!”

                “Yeah, real trustworthy coming from the likes of _you_ ,” Zhang spat, raising the fire dagger.

                The blacksmith’s apprentice realized with a terrifying certainty that he was going to die.

                There was a loud swooshing noise and a crash, as a black figure descended from the rooftop and landed hard in the middle of the street. She was between the two benders, clad entirely in black, with a smooth, featureless black mask over the face. In his surprise, the firebender’s dagger had gone out.

                “What the hell?”

                Zhang’s friend got to his senses before Zhang did, bending a whip of water at the intruder. She moved with unnatural speed, rolling beneath the bending weapon and closing the distance to the water bender in one movement. He barely had time to register his surprise before the dark warrior kicked him hard in the stomach, and then grabbed his shoulder with her left hand. A sudden burst of electricity travelled down the bender’s body, and he fell limp.

                In all this time Zhang had simply stared, the non-bender forgotten. He quickly swung his arms and threw a bolt of fire at the black figure, who again dodged it with supernatural speed. His mouth went open as she somehowclosed the distance between them in the space of a breath. In a movement as supple and deadly as a tiger’s lunge, she jabbed him in his windpipe, sending him choking to his knees.

                “Who are you?” He croaked. She didn’t answer. She did stun him with her electroglove, though. Her impassive black mask turned from the fallen firebender to look at the non-bender, backed up against the wall. He was absolutely terrified.

                “Spirits guide me,” he whispered, clutching his ribs. The black-clad figure turned to walk away. “Are you—are you one of them?”

                The figure stopped. After a moment, the boy realized she was waiting for him to explain.

                “Are you an Equalist?” he asked hoarsely, almost afraid of the answer. She recoiled as if she’d been slapped. The blacksmith’s apprentice stared as she angrily tore off the electroglove and threw it on the ground. She ran off into the night, black fading into blackness.

                Then she was gone.

xXx

                The prison stank of stale sweat, and the scent of human decay. It lay just beneath the turbulent streets of Republic City, buried and hidden from all but the most inquisitive eyes. It wasn’t accustomed to visits from people with the status or wealth of Asami Sato. But here they were, marching down a narrow tunnel made of cobbled bricks, two guards flanking the esteemed heiress—well, Chief Executive Officer, now—of Future Industries.  Both guards were only on a temporary rotation, spending a month or so patrolling down in the ‘Hole before they’d go back to the City aboveground and forget all about this terrible place. They both agreed that the stink would never leave them.

                One of the guards, named Korrlac, made an honest effort at dissuading the young woman before she’d gone down into the tunnels.

                “You won’t find anything worthwhile down there, ma’am,” he’d said respectfully, using a tone similar to the one reserved for Chief Lin. The young woman commanded an easy air of respect. It made him uncomfortable.

                “That’s for me to decide,” Asami had replied curtly, and that had been that. It was above Korrlac’s pay grade to disagree further; he was just the rotation chief. If she’d managed to work her way down here, she’d find out herself why the upper crust were usually kept ignorant as to what dwelled beneath them.

                She had, at least, thought to bring a scarf and bandanna into the sewers to keep all that dirt and filth out of her flawless hair. When she moved she slightly favoured her right side, as though there were a bruise there; but she didn’t once complain or even try to draw attention to it. That earned her a smidgen of begrudging respect.

                “We’re coming up near the cells now, ma’am,” Korrlac said simply, raising his torch to gesture at steel slabs in the stone walls. The smooth steel was only marked by narrow slits, so that the guards could view the prisoners.

                “I presume the cells are vented on the interior,” Ms. Sato said, breaking her silence for the first time since they’d started their descent. Korrlac nodded.

                “The stone in the cell is separated just enough to allow air to pass in through vents above the cells. Not wide enough to allow an escape, but wide enough to keep them breathing.”

                “Hence the smell.” Korrlac could almost hear her nose wrinkling from behind her tightly wrapped scarf. It was a plain, brown, no-nonsense affair. Again the girl displayed some sense. If he didn’t have a deep personal distrust of anyone who made more money than he did, Korrlac probably would’ve liked her.

                “That’s one theory,” Korrlac muttered ruefully. The set of armour he’d been wearing down in the ‘Hole would have to be scrapped once he rotated out; he’d known as much before he’d ever come down. Now he knew _why_.

                “How is there such extensive tunnelling beneath the city without anyone noticing?” Ms. Sato’s tone was strange; urgent, yet contemplative. He didn’t know how to place it, except within the band of seriousness that bespoke the expensive troubles of people who ran things.

                “No idea, ma’am. You’d have to take that up with the Council,” Korrlac said, not unkindly. He had a daughter about her age; not half so pretty or well-kept, but a father couldn’t help see his own daughter in the face of every young girl he saw. “Here we are,” he said, trying not to sound pleased. Their tunnel opened up into a large, cavernous station with a series of large mine carts on tracks, leading into five different tunnels. It was lit up brightly by a large light in the ceiling of indeterminate source, but each of the tunnels was as pitch black as the one they’d come from.

                “How many stations like this _are_ there?” Sato asked, walking up to one of the mine carts and examining it closely. Each was large enough to accommodate at least five people, a large, flat bed of steel with slightly raised sides and two benches along its middle.

                “Fourteen, ma’am,” Korrlac said simply. Ms. Sato relapsed into her earlier silence, prompting Korrlac to clear his throat and direct her to another cart. The other guard didn’t come with them.

                “What, is he afraid of the dark?” Asami asked wryly.

                “No. He’s here to make sure we’re the only ones that come out of this tunnel,” Korrlac said, strapping himself in and instructing the girl to do the same. She didn’t seem any less amused. That was frustrating. He waited for her to ask how they were going to push the cart. She didn’t, so he got to his feet, secured the strap keeping him attached to the platform, stuck his torch in a receptacle at the head of the cart, and went through the brusque, direct movements of metal bending.

                The cart lurched forward, and then evened out to whiz down the tunnel at a steady pace. If Asami was unnerved by the speed, she did a good job of appearing distinctly unconcerned. Again Korrlac felt respect creep in, from the most unlikely of places. Somehow she didn’t seem like the other noble types he’d brushed shoulders with; she didn’t treat him or the officers with contempt. She just had a job to do, Korrlac surmised, and she was damned if anyone or anything was going to slow her down while she was at it.

                He decided he liked her. She reminded him of his Ky Lee. Though his Ky wouldn’t have been able to keep her mouth shut, not for so long; she’d always been quite the chatterbox, always something to say—

                _Damn it_ , Korrlac cursed mentally, realizing he’d stopped paying attention to the discreet overhead markers at the head of the tunnel. He distinguished the pattern the fast-blurring red dots made as they travelled, then breathed easy. They hadn’t passed the cell they were visiting. That was good. He didn’t want to have to backtrack with the owner of Future Industries in tow. She didn’t seem like a gossip, but he wasn’t about to risk his career—and the money for Ky Lee’s education—on Asami Sato’s presumed good character.

                He tracked the markings—specially designed so that they were nonsense to anyone walking beneath them, but made unique patterns when you were travelling beneath them at a cart’s speed—and slowed the cart as they approached their destination. They were deep in the tunnel now, in one of the older cells. The cells were larger here, made before the eager founders of Republic City had realized just how many brutal criminals a thriving metropolis could accrue.

                _And the ‘Hole’s only for the_ worst _criminals_ , Korrlac thought with awe, not for the first time. His father had been water tribe, though his mother had been born in the Earth Kingdom; he’d spent most of his life shuffling between the two wildly different cultures, and he’d never seen anything like the ‘Hole in Republic City. Most of the prisoners here were non-benders, though there were special cells for particularly nasty criminals of each different bending persuasion. There was even rumour of a unique cell made to hold the Avatar, should she—or he, or whomever—wind up using his or her considerable power to terrorize the City. Whoever had designed these tunnels had been unmistakeably thorough.

                The cart moved to a stop as the motions of Korrlac’s arms slowed. He shook the weight out of one of his shoulders. Though he was long accustomed to it, he’d essentially just paddled a metal plank down a long tunnel with an oar made of his insistence that metal should move. It was tiring. He unbuckled himself, and then turned to see Ms. Sato had already managed to figure out her own harness. He permitted himself a smile.

                “This way, Ms. Sato,” he said, pointing to a wide slab of steel in the cobblestone wall. She followed him as he walked to it, and he said, “I’ll need to accompany you. This prisoner shouldn’t give you any trouble, but—”

                “I can handle myself,” she said, almost casually. Korrlac frowned.

                “Be that as it may, I’ll still have to accompany you. That’s my job,” he said, sounding less firm than he’d intended.  His daughter would’ve said _she_ could handle herself, as well.

                _Actually, she probably wouldn’t have been nearly so polite_ , Korrlac thought with a grin. How many times had he come home to hear Maiko lecturing their daughter for some offense or another … ah, but he could never be angry at either of them.

                And _that_ , he thought with amusement, was the one unifying force strong enough to make his wife and daughter set their sights on _him_ instead of each other when they were having one of their “arguments.”

                “Officer Korrlac?” Asami asked.  Korrlac realized he’d been daydreaming. He blushed behind his scarf, then planted his feet in a wide stance and abruptly raised an arm, commanding the metal door to flow as his arm flowed, to move as his arm moved. The metal slab shot up into a hidden recess, obedient to his bending. If he were knocked unconscious, or left the area, or even broke his focus, the slab would fall back into place. Only the police were metal benders; no one had escaped from this prison in the admittedly brief history of its existence. He followed Ms. Sato into the cell, noting with a mix of exasperation and amusement that _he_ was supposed to be the one leading the way.

                Well, he wasn’t about to stop her. If she could extract a favour like this out of Commissioner Lin—whose new title had arisen from the uncomfortable circumstance of having two excellently qualified Chiefs of Police—she could probably handle an old cripple.

                The interior of the cell was stone on the three sides that weren’t dominated by the gaping hole left by the metal slab. An old, wizened man was lying on a wooden cot, though he’d started to rise as the door opened. No doubt he was wondering what unique circumstances had brought someone into his cell. He slowly got to his feet, scrabbling at the wall with one hand. His skin was a deep, dark brown, with the weathered, leathery look of someone who had been born to hardship. His face was pointed and hawklike, and his pained grimace suggested a hidden, long-abused intelligence.

                “Don’t trouble yourself, please,” Asami said, without thinking. The man seemed surprised, then grunted in response and lowered himself back to his cot. He gestured to his left knee, which Asami saw had enough twists and knots to make the oldest oak feel self-conscious.

                “My first year,” he explained, in a voice as sudden and tired as old wind. “Down here, I mean. In the ‘Hole.” He spoke as though unaccustomed to the sound of his own voice. For all Asami knew, he might be. She felt Korrlac stiffen behind her, adjusting his gauntlets. She imagined the prisoners didn’t often speak. His eyes flickered to Korrlac, like two pieces of flint shifting in the sun. “Oh, not in your time, son. You’ve got to be, what, thirty-five, maybe? You would’ve just been a pup when they locked me up in here.” He didn’t say it with contempt; he seemed almost amused.

                “Thirty-six,” Korrlac said begrudgingly. The prisoner seemed slightly mollified. Asami started to unwind her scarf and removed her bandana, letting out her hair in a single flawless motion that was as out-of-place in the prison as a butterfly at sea. The man’s eyes widened with sudden, startled recognition.

                “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his words turning from confusion to amusement in the same breath. Asami Sato shrugged her shoulders.

                “Neither are you.”

xXx

                Asami had been twelve years old when she’d first gone chasing after bats.

                All of the household servants had told her it was impossible, that no such creature could possibly exist; surely a wolfbat, or a batfly, or maybe one of those particularly nasty lizardbats that you heard about from the Fire Nation. But she insisted, swore that she’d seen a _bat_ , and she was determined to prove it to all of them. Her father didn’t exactly tell her she was wrong; but he humoured her, and that was nearly as bad. Maybe even worse.

_Well, when I show them the bat they’ll just have to apologize_ , Asami thought with youthful pride, having packed a reasonable supply of provisions she’d sneaked from the cupboards. She’d left a note explaining what she’d done; she didn’t want anyone to take the heat for her own little adventure.

                And besides, she expected to be back home soon, anyway.

                She slipped away from her father’s mansion—somehow, she’d never thought of it as her mansion—and made her way out of Republic City with little difficulty. Everyone always thought they were being so clever; her father, her father’s guards, the police, everyone. It really wasn’t that hard to just slip by. All you had to do was show them what they wanted to see. If a downtrodden kid in simple clothing walked out the City Gates, no one would pay any mind. Sure, she _liked_ wearing nice clothes and keeping her hair clean; but she also liked getting dirty and exploring. She didn’t know why so many people were convinced the two were mutually exclusive.

                She made the short trip from the City and travelled alone, along the coastline, kicking up sand on the shore as she tried to remember the way back to her destination. She’d been there once before, years ago, on a trip to the beach with her mother and father, back when—

                She winced, and forced the memory away, focusing on her goal with all the intense ferocity and shameless belief of a twelve-year-old on a mission. The cave should be near, if she could just find it, then she _knew_ she’d find the bat. And then ….

                Well, she hadn’t really thought what would happen, then. She was twelve.

                She searched along the coastline for what felt like hours, dimly aware that someone would _definitely_ notice that she was missing by now. She’d expected to find the cave immediately. Hadn’t it just been around this next turn in the beach? But no matter how far she walked, munching her way through the fresh fruit she’d brought, she didn’t find it. She tried to think back, tried to cast her mind back to that day … what had she been _doing?_

                She remembered a rocky cliffside, remembered scraping her hands as she climbed over rocks not meant to be climbed … she remembered squeezing into a slit in a wall. It had seemed like a large opening, then, but she’d only been five years old. She raced down the beach, sure of herself now, then looked at a tall cliffside, looking out over the bay. She shielded her eyes from the high midday sun and looked up. _There_. An opening that had once seemed cavernous. She hoisted her travelsack over one shoulder and started to climb, determined beyond the point of reason. Her eager fingers, slender but strong, found purchase on sharp, jagged rocks as she pushed herself upwards. One rock dug into her skin and drew blood, but she pushed on, aware of the pain in her hands but too proud to admit to it, even to herself.

                She climbed, ignoring the pain, ignoring the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach that told her how many people were worried for her. She was fine; she could take care of herself. She’d _always_ been able to take care of herself. She’d had to. Her father was always so busy, while the servants around the house were only kind because they had to be. She had to make her own way.

                Her hand slapped onto the cold, flat surface of the cave opening. Not really a cave, she realized, more like a crack in the cliff’s face.  It had just seemed like a cave when she was barely taller than three feet. She pulled herself up onto the rock surface and wrenched her way inside, realizing there was barely enough room for her to kneel. The opening only narrowed as it went deeper, but she knew what was on the other side. She took off her travelsack and laid it near the cave’s entrance, then flattened onto her stomach and inched forward, deeper into the dark crevice. The stone floor was cold and hard on her hands. She wasn’t claustrophobic, but the tightness of the place was triggering some deep, primal fear of dark places.

                _Come on, you can do this. Don’t be afraid_ , she thought, chastising herself.

                It only took her half an hour to get stuck.

xXx

                Bolin kicked a piece of rubble and sighed, wondering when the arena would be back to its old self. Everything was changing around him. He supposed he couldn’t blame everything. It was hardly _everything’s_ fault that Amon had decided to blow up half the city, and Bolin’s home with it. Wasn’t everything’s fault that Mako was busy training with the new firebending division, either. Of course, Bolin was happy for his brother—how couldn’t he be? He was going to be one of the first firebenders to ever serve in Republic City’s police force! It was incredible!

                It also left Bolin with a whole lot of free time and not a lot to fill it with. Pabu mewled sympathetically on his shoulder.

                “It’s rough, buddy,” Bolin opined philosophically, sitting down on a larger block of rubble and staring out at the devastated arena. There were already repair projects underway, of course, but it’d still take a long time to get the arena back on its feet. In the meantime, Pro Bending was at a standstill. He’d offered to help with the reconstruction, but he’d been informed that the contractors repairing the place “Knew what they’re doing, kid.”

                He didn’t doubt that. He just hated to see his home in ruins, and wanted to help! Why didn’t anyone understand that? He just wanted his home back.

                And Korra … well, Korra didn’t really have much time for Bolin anymore. He didn’t blame her, either; her airbending training had accelerated, and she only had so much time to spend with Mako. Apparently Tenzin was taking special care to teach her the spiritual side of bending. Bolin thought that was great, especially since Korra had been through so much to do with her … spiritual … Avatar … _thing_ , but the fact remained that it left Bolin bored out of his mind.

                People didn’t even seem that interested in watching Pabu’s performances in the main square. The whole world had gone crazy.

                He felt vibrations in the earth beneath him, the distinct clanging of metal soles on the ground. He wasn’t terribly surprised; police officers were out in droves patrolling the city now, particularly in the places most touched by Amon’s rebellion. A rash of angry, violent crime was spreading through the city, benders against non-benders, non-benders against benders, non-benders against _other_ non-benders … and, as ever, the benders themselves fought each other to prove how powerful they were. Somehow people seemed to think that where buildings had been reduced to rubble, the law didn’t apply; and it might as well not have. The metalbenders had all had their bending restored by Korra, but the restoration of the bending police’s ruined infrastructure and transports would take considerably longer. The United Forces ships had stayed near the city, but that only seemed to make things worse. The Forces tried not to interfere, since if they did, things would inevitably escalate; but the presence of the ships in the harbour had everyone’s teeth set on edge. The whole thing was a mess. Bolin just wanted to Pro Bend and entertain people; how could all this violence have only made people want _more_ of it? Korra had flat-out refused to restore the bending of known criminals, but a dozen other gangs had sprouted up in the power vacuum, even worse than the old ones. The new gangs were desperate, violent, and hungry to prove themselves.

                Pabu squirmed on Bolin’s shoulders, beating a reassuring rhythm with his tiny feat. Bolin smiled and reached up to pet his little buddy. At least Pabu hadn’t gone nuts. He could hear the metal bending cop approaching, now, so he got to his feet. He figured it was a good idea to not just slouch and ignore a cop.

                “Commissioner Bei Fong!” Bolin blurted in surprise. She was the last person he’d expected to see here. Didn’t she have big important police stuff to do?

                “Calm down, kid, I’m not here to arrest you,” The Police Commissioner replied, sounding almost amused beneath her general veneer of stern competence. Bolin blushed and rubbed his neck nervously, grinning at his own foolishness.

                “Well, that’s good,” he joked lamely. “Uh, nice to see you! Out and about. Fighting the good fight.”

                “Indeed,” she said, her face completely unreadable. Bolin felt a little nervous, and had to remind himself not to roll around on the balls of his feet. He always did that when he was nervous. Bad habit. Mako had been telling him about it for years. He realized that Commissioner Bei Fong had said something to him. Daydreaming was _another_ bad habit of his.

                “Um, sorry?” He asked, trying not to sound as mortified as he felt. His face had gone so red he might’ve passed for a tomato.

                “I said, what are you doing here, Bolin?” The question wasn’t unkind, though the Commissioner’s expression was still a mask of professionalism. Bolin scrambled to think of an answer that wasn’t incriminating.

                “Um, well, I just like to come here and, um, watch the Arena restoration, sometimes. You know, check up on it,” He stammered, standing at attention for some reason. Lin Bei Fong had a way of implicitly commanding respect.

                “I see.” She looked at him long and hard, then asked, just as suddenly as before: “What are your plans?”

                “My plans?” He was mostly thinking about getting some Fire Nation noodles for dinner.

                “For your future,” Lin elaborated wryly. Again Bolin had the impression that she found him deeply amusing, though was too professional to admit it.

                “Um, well, when the Arena’s back, I guess I’m gonna go back to competing—”

                “Really? After all that’s happened?” Lin asked curtly. Bolin again tried to come up with an answer, but she saved him the trouble. “General Iroh speaks quite highly of your bending abilities. I was convinced he’d recruited you. Turns out,” she said, her tone growing slightly more insistent, “He thought I’d done the same thing.” She arched an eyebrow. “So. You just want to be a Pro Bender?”

                “Well, yeah, I guess,” Bolin muttered. Somehow she was making the prospect seem … dishonest. He realized he was looking at his feet.

                “Avatar Korra has personally assured me you’re a good kid. Your brother speaks highly of you, and he’s the best firebender we have in training.” She seemed like she wasn’t quite out of things to say with respect to his brother, but she’d been a cop too long to just blurt out her opinions of recruits to civilians. Even if the two were related. “You look around this city, young man, and tell me what you see.”

                “Um, well, things are pretty beat up—”

                “An apt description,” she said dryly. She clapped a hand on his shoulder suddenly and looked into his eyes, her intense gaze meeting his frankly baffled one. “Things _are_ pretty beat up, Bolin. There are a lot of people out there looking to take advantage of that. This city needs good people who can do something about the mess they see. If you decide you want to put those skills of yours to good use, come see me. Unless you’d rather wait for months to play games.”

                Bolin blinked, and she left, marching off with the sure footing of someone who’d known exactly what to do all their life.

                Pabu mewled in confusion.

                “You said it,” Bolin sighed, before he started walking towards the market. Maybe he’d go ahead and get those noodles after all.

xXx

                Asami spent an hour of her young life trapped in between two slabs of stone, terrified out of her mind. No matter how she contorted her body or pushed against the unyielding cave floor, she couldn’t work her way back towards the entrance. Nothing worked, and the coldness of the cave was making her shiver.

                She didn’t bother hoping that someone would rescue her. She’d done an excellent job of escaping unnoticed, and she hadn’t told anyone where she was going. She wanted to scream at herself for her stupidity. Instead she grit her teeth and tried to come up with a way out of this. She _had_ to. She couldn’t die in this cave.

                She renewed her efforts at squirming backwards, grunting in pain as her leg caught on a sharp rock. She couldn’t see her leg—she couldn’t see _anything_ —but she felt the warm trickle of blood along her calf. With a gasp, she realized she couldn’t go back. If she did, she’d only dig the rock in tighter and make her wound worse. She suddenly felt the reality of her situation. The cold, unfeeling darkness of the stone floor and ceiling weighed down on her soul as it trapped her body. She started to panic, her blood racing, a cold sheen of sweat breaking out on her skin—

                A faint, chittering noise echoed through the cave. By the time it reached her ears, it had been mimicked and doubled by the cave so many times that it sounded like a chorus. The sound stopped after a moment, then came again. It sounded insistent, like a beckoning.

                It was then that she knew what to do.

                She inched forward, freeing herself from the stone behind her. At first, she was afraid the darkness would close in on her, constricting her … but it widened. She moved further in, inch by inch, until there was enough room for her to kneel. The sound echoed around her again, closer this time. She crept forward in the darkness, following the sound. As she moved deeper, there were fewer echoing mimics of the original noise. It was astonishingly clear. She longed to find its source. To hear it at its clearest….

                After a long while of slowly pushing through the cave, she suddenly came upon a wide, open cavern, impossibly huge, rimmed with stalactites that made it appear to have fangs. For a moment, she stared up at the toothed ceiling, sucking in the fresh air and laughing with giddy relief. She stopped when she saw something stirring on the ceiling. She narrowed her eyes and tried to make it out, wishing for the thousandth time that she could firebend. Then making a light would have been easy.

                The shape moved again. _Shapes_. Thousands of them twitched to life and unleashed a thousand screeching bursts of sound. Asami fell to her knees and covered her hair as they launched from the ceiling, swirling about like leathery clouds buffeted by the wind. She slowly looked up in amazement, marvelling at the sheer alien beauty of them. They descended towards her, swirling slowly like a tornado touching down on the earth. Something told her not to run or fight. She got to her feet and held her hands steady at her sides, welcoming them. A thousand bats swirled around her and cheered, welcoming her into their home.

                Wind whispered through the cave and beams of light slashed down through the dark as a girl born in the land of the blind opened her eyes.

xXx

                If the prison guards had been uncomfortable when Asami had demanded to see a prisoner, they had hid it well; when she’d declared that she had an order to release him, they had been openly irate.

                “This _is_ Commissioner Bei Fong’s signature, along with all the council members’,” Asami reminded the guard at the entrance of the prison. Korrlac had been surprisingly amenable to her request; the word of Lin Bei Fong went far with him. Not so true for the gate guard.

                “And I am _telling you,_ woman, I haven’t seen a prisoner walk out of this prison in twenty-seven years!” The guard was an old, withered specimen, made tough and bitter by either his work or something inside him that took pleasure at watching the suffering of others. Asami didn’t care to find out which. Her side was still aching after she’d taken a bad fall during her last … adventure in the streets of Republic City. She wasn’t in the mood to humour this old reptile.

                “It’d be a boring life if you never saw anything new, now wouldn’t it?” Asami said irritably, rubbing her forehead. She’d thought it would be best not to reveal her mission when she’d went into the prison; she couldn’t risk some corrupt officer spilling the word that a young woman had walked into the ‘Hole with a pardon.

                “It _is_ legitimate, sir,” Korrlac said behind her, his voice even and firm. Asami felt a sudden rush of gratitude to this man who barely knew her. He seemed honest, and his hardness was only there for when it had to be. Unlike the gate guard, he didn’t relish the thought of all those prisoners languishing down there. “I would hardly have let him out of his cell otherwise.”

                “Look,” Asami snapped, “You can either let us through, or I can go and bring the Commissioner down here. And you can tell _her_ how you’ve never seen anyone walk out of here.” That seemed to give him pause. Finally, he slapped his seal on the pardon Asami had given him, and turned to open the large, steel door that separated the ‘Hole from the world above. Asami felt a sudden distaste for the quiet complacency of those who lived in ignorance of what was beneath their own feet.

                _Those like me_ , she realized. She’d only discovered the prison’s existence after she’d exhaustively searched for the source of inventions whose origins were suspiciously absent from the Future Industries archives. Well, now she knew. And she was doing something about it.

                The man she’d come for hadn’t said a word as they’d left the prison. He was leaning on a metal cane that Korrlac had crafted from the metal cable in his uniform. Asami couldn’t help but envy the ease with which he’d created a solution. It was that old feeling, too well known to so many people in the world: the jealousy of a non-bender. Most people tried to hide it, or pretend it wasn’t there. Some—like her father—grew twisted by it. Asami mostly tried to focus on her own strengths, rather than someone else’s. She tried to remember the lesson she’d learned in the cave, so many years ago.

                _Always move forward._

                She left the guards behind as she escorted the old man—who was still rigidly silent—to the Satomobile she’d parked outside the discreet entrance to the sprawling underground prison. It was so innocuously hidden; it might as well have been a sewer main near one of the city walls. She found herself wondering just what they had so desperately needed to hide down there. Who had they needed to lock away so tightly?

                Certainly not the old man she was escorting. His name was Ibushi Makarai, and he’d once been a friend of her father’s. As far as she could tell, the only thing he’d done to earn himself a place in that prison was anger her father. A year ago, she would never have believed her father would have done such a thing. A _month_ ago she might not have. But now she knew different.

                “You can take the passenger seat,” she informed him, as she took the driver’s.

                “I’m afraid you’ll either have to burn the car or shampoo it into oblivion,” the old man quipped, gingerly easing himself into the car. His knee obviously plagued him, but he was too stubborn to complain about it. “Well, I must say, it was quite the surprise to see you down there in my cell. You must’ve been a toddler the last time I laid eyes on you.”

                Asami blinked. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised.

                “My father is—”

                “In jail. I know. Though a nicer jail than mine, I imagine.” Makarai chuckled. “I’m a well-informed prisoner, don’t worry. My, my. The impressive Asami Sato, personally breaking me out of jail. I’m flattered.” He grinned like a hawk. “So what is it you need me for?”

                “My father’s secrets,” Asami said brusquely. “Buckle your seatbelt. This thing’s faster than a minecart.”

xXx

                The cave was vast, with a dozen different entrances and exits large enough for Asami to fit through. She tried most of them and turned back when the air grew stale, or if the chattering of the bats faded. Their noises were like a chorus of support. Asami wasn’t about to leave them behind. She was back in the main chamber, biting her lip and counting off the exits she’d marked with rocks. There were still seven left. She’d had to have been down here for hours. What if there was no exit she could use, what if—

                _That’s stupid_. She picked a new exit, one that she had to get down on her knees to explore. The air coming through it was fresh. That was a good sign. She crept forward, ignoring the possibility that she might get trapped. She couldn’t survive down here; there was nothing to eat. She’d have to find an exit or die trying. She could hear bats, somewhere ahead. Their chattering cries had become a second sight for her. She pushed on.

                A gentle whispering reached her through the cracks. She turned her head, trying to find the source of the noise, but she couldn’t see anything, anyway. She could only feel the fresh air and listen for the bats to find her way. She moved on.

                The whispering again. She stopped, and for a moment felt fear. She shoved it aside as brutally as she did everything else.

                **_Wait._**

                She jumped, hitting her head on the hard, stony roof. A single line of blood started running down through her beautiful—though by now severely filthy—hair. It wasn’t a bad wound, but it startled her. That had been a voice _inside her head._

                **_Left._**

Her jaw dropped open in astonishment. Somehow, in her head, the image of a giant bat came to her, one wearing a beautiful, ornate crystal mask on its chest. There were strange markings along its wings.

                _A spirit_ , she realized. She coughed as she inhaled dust in her surprise.

                **_Left._**

                She went left. Whenever she started to get lost, or afraid, the spirit implored her again, showing her the way. The tiny cave tunnel widened and narrowed at points, but never to the point of trapping her. Soon, the air grew more fresh and cheerful, and the musty smell of the cave was leaving her behind. The bat spirit’s voice faded in her head, and she realized she was nearly out of the cave.

                **_Do not look away._** Asami blinked, wondering what that meant, but the spirit was gone.

                She emerged from the cave onto grounds owned by one of her father’s factories. As her father’s workers and vassals ushered her back home, Asami stayed silent, running over the words in her head, trying to make sense of them.

                _I won’t look away_ , she promised. She wondered if the spirit could hear her. She wondered if she really knew what she was promising.

xXx

                “Hey, Korrlac. Just one thing before you go,” the gate guard sneered. Korrlac squared his shoulders. This man was—technically—his superior officer, however much he mightn’t like it. He’d no doubt earned himself a good solid week of the worst jobs in the ‘Hole. Well, that was his burden to suffer. So help him, he’d liked the Sato kid. Spirits knew she’d been through enough. Her own _father_ … Korrlac thought of his daughter again. No kid should ever have to go through that.

                “Yes, sir?”

                “You’re the lucky trooper who gets to bring slop to _this_ cell,” the gate guard said, pointing to a cell on a map of the prison. Korrlac blanched. It was in the deepest part of the complex. If he did this he’d _definitely_ be home late, and he would _definitely_ not hear the end of it. The gate guard grinned. Korrlac couldn’t remember his name. Something fire nation. “There isn’t a problem, is there, _officer?_ ”

                “Not at all, sir.” Korrlac took the slop bucket—whose contents actually weren’t that bad, all things considered—and made his way to the nearest cart junction. He hummed a senseless tune to himself as he walked, something he’d heard his daughter singing. He laid the bucket in one of the carts and turned the cart down to an old tunnel that seemed to stretch for days.

                _Well, maybe if I make it fast I can get home before dark_ , he thought grimly, guiding the cart down the tracks at the regular speed, anyway. He’d get more than a minor tongue-lashing if he drove one of the carts off the rails.

                It took him nearly an hour to finally reach the last cell. All the cells in this wing were made of pure, vented platinum. The cost to build them must have been exorbitant, and Korrlac realized with eerie certainty that they’d been made to hold metalbenders. As he guided the cart to a stop, he felt the cold, impossible-to-bend nature of the metal. It was too pure, too free of earth. He wondered how he was supposed to open the prisoner’s door, when he saw a lever. It, too, was platinum—it met his bending senses with that same eerie deadness—but it had a small metal catch that could be used to keep it raised. He’d have to open the door the old fashioned way, though.

                There was a slit in the door, so he could view the prisoner before coming in. Korrlac slid it open, for good measure. If they had kept this person _this_ far into the prison, there was probably a damn good reason. He cracked the slit open.

                Slumped against one corner of the cell was a thin, though sharply muscular man, with long, unruly black hair. There were three vicious scars along his left cheek that started at his jaw and narrowly missed his eye, just stopping short of his nose. He had handsome, Earth Kingdom features, with the look of someone who had aged well. His eyes were shut, and he wasn’t moving. His hands were bound in platinum manacles, which were secured in turn to the platinum cell wall.

                “Hey! Prisoner!” No answer. Korrlac beat the cell door and cursed, before he hurriedly worked the lever to open it. The ponderous metal slab slowly creaked up, groaning as it rose. Korrlac secured the lever in the metal catch and entered the cell carefully. The usual tell-tale scent of death was absent from the room.

                The prisoner’s shackles fell from his hands with a clack and he opened his eyes, the most terribly bright green Korrlac had seen.

                “Took you long enough.”

He sounded insulted.

                Korrlac immediately raised his fists to attack, but the prisoner moved with unreal speed, jabbing a brutal thrust into the joints of Korrlac’s armour. Korrlac’s eyes went wide as he slumped over, his arms unusable. The prisoner rather calmly shook off the chains on his leg, then grabbed Korrlac by the throat and pinned him to the wall with almost casual indifference.

                “You’ll never get out—”

                “That so?” the prisoner asked, as though Korrlac had just mentioned that there might be rain coming. Those astonishing eyes flickered to him for a moment. Korrlac was suddenly struck by the thought of his wife and daughter, happily preparing supper at home, probably wondering what foolishness was keeping Korrlac at work.

                “I always wondered why Lin never had you all learn chi-blocking,” the prisoner murmured.

                “ _How_?” Korrlac gasped, trying to keep him talking. There _had_ to be a way out of this … but without his arms, what could he do? He had to think of something.

                “Oh, I learned to bend platinum ten months ago,” the man said conversationally. “But I wanted to wait and see what happened with the revolution.” He made a face. “You people are always disappointing me.” Korrlac ignored him, running the names of his wife and daughter over in his head a thousand times. _Maiko.Ky Lee. Maiko. Ky Lee. Maiko. Ky Lee._

“Daughter? Wife? Sister? Both? All three?” the man asked, sounding genuinely curious. Korrlac cursed. He’d whispered Ky Lee’s name. The man waited for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” He reached up with his other hand and braced it against the side of Korrlac’s head. “One simple act of violence and all those little details that make up someone’s life … gone. Just like that. And no one but the few you had touched will notice. Or care.”

                He snapped Korrlac’s neck with the quick efficiency of a practiced killer. He seemed satisfied.

                “Still using the same marking system, then?” He asked, glancing at the overhead dots. He seemed to have forgotten that Korrlac was a corpse. He looked down the tunnel, in the direction Korrlac had come from, then turned smartly around and started walking through the smooth stone at the end of the tunnel. It fell away in front of him like sand. He started to whistle a jaunty tune.

Somewhere in Republic City, a Fire Nation woman named Maiko dully suspected that something was wrong as she ordered take-out from her husband’s favourite restaurant. He deserved it, she thought; he’d been working so hard lately. He was such a good man. Such a good husband. Such a good father.


	2. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no action without an equal and opposite reaction.

                “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Tenzin said, as calm and respectful as ever. Serenity seemed to come to him as naturally as breathing. The same could not be said of Lin Bei Fong.

                “Yes, I do. He was my officer. His family deserves to hear it from me,” Lin said, her voice firm. They were seated in the back seat of a police car, speeding down to one of the more humble, though relatively crime-free districts of the city.

                Tenzin wisely kept his mouth shut. Lin was locked away with her own dark thoughts, and he couldn’t blame her. The past few months had been a nightmare for her. Even if she had her bending back, she had given it up, thinking she’d lost it forever. Now that she had it back, she seemed even more determined to use it to protect Republic City than before. It was wearing her ragged, though she would admit it to precisely no one. Or maybe that was just Tenzin’s own foolishness talking. The spirits knew Lin had endured more than anyone Tenzin knew.

                _And now this_ , he thought sadly. It was too cruel to have this happen now. To have those old ghosts, too terrible to name, brought back to the surface….

                “His wife’s name is Maiko, and the daughter is Ky Lee,” Lin said suddenly. She sounded as though she was only half-talking to Tenzin. “Ky Lee. She’s only sixteen. Not a bender, though she’s supposed to be talented with a sword. She had demonstrations. Korrlac was always asking that I go watch one.”

                Tenzin didn’t have it in him to ask if she ever had. His thoughts turned to the reason they were going to Korrlac’s home in the first place. He remembered the urgent request from Lin that he meet her down in the Last Hole, so named because it was apparently “the last hole you’d ever see.”

                _But not the last for_ him. _Not the last for that monster_ , Tenzin thought with venom. All these years later, it was alarming to realize he could hate someone so much. That man had torn apart a family for no better reason than that it amused him. Of that Tenzin had no doubt.

                He paused, and breathed deep. He wouldn’t be facing the family; they would just be confused as to his presence. What he could do was meditate, and pray that they would somehow find peace as they suffered through this tragedy.

                The car slowed and stopped outside a simple but comfortable looking home. The wooden door in particular was covered in hundreds of scratches, which Tenzin eventually realized were crude writings. The markings he could make out said ludicrously dramatic things like “The Great and Honourable Family Inaq!”, “Korrlac the Magnificent Metal Bender!” or “Ky Lee the Peerless Blade!” The writer seemed to have drawn inspiration from several classic Fire Nation plays.

                He would’ve sworn anything that they had been carved with a sword, held at different heights and inscribed with increasing precision as a young girl grew taller and more skilful. He thought of his own children, and his heart broke. He found he had to look away. Lin took a breath and left the car, walking to the front door like a soldier facing death.

                Tenzin forced himself to watch. Lin knocked on the door as tersely as if she were made of stone. After a moment, a handsome Fire Nation woman opened the door, her face frantic and utterly distraught. Tenzin could just barely make out the conversation, and heard the woman start to ask where her husband was. Her face crumpled as she realized why the Police Commissioner was at her door. She didn’t start to cry. The look on her face was absolutely hollow. Eventually she started to shudder, and Lin, surprising Tenzin, moved forward and took her into her arms. Only then did the poor woman break, her shoulders heaving as she wept openly.

                A young girl’s voice rang as high and clear as a noon bell.

                “Mom? What’s wrong? Is it Dad?”

                The owner of the voice ran to the door, behind her mother. She was a good head taller, and where her mother was Fire Nation to the bone, she had the distinct look of someone with mixed blood. She was young and heedless, though she stopped when she saw the police commissioner hugging her mother. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes, her face moving from shocked disbelief to horror in an instant. After a moment Lin walked towards her and said something. Tenzin couldn’t bear to watch any more.

                “Is it always this bad?” He found himself asking the metalbender cop who’d driven them here.

                “Yeah. And she’s always there,” the cop said immediately. Tenzin was starting to understand why the metalbenders were so fanatically loyal to Lin.

                After a long while, Lin returned to the car. Tenzin somehow found the courage to look back at the devastated family. He couldn’t help but see Pema and his children. Though she was older and looked nothing like her, Ky Lee made Tenzin think of Jinora. After a moment the girl turned and went back inside, obviously trying not to run. Her mother stayed in their porch, running her fingers over a spot in the wood carved in Korrlac’s honour. Tenzin had to look away again.

                _This is the suffering violence brings. This is the madness we seek to dispel._

                “Let’s go,” Lin said, once she was settled in. “She said she wants to spend some time alone. We’ll need to station an officer to patrol along this street once every two hours at the least. Tenzin, I’m going to need to ask you to pull some strings again.”

                Tenzin didn’t need to ask what strings she meant. He’d ensure the family received Korrlac’s annual salary in full for as long as they lived, no matter what the other councillors might say about economic feasibility. Republic City’s fledgling political infrastructure ensured that even the most necessary things depended upon at least a day’s deliberation, cajoling, and pressuring.

                “All right, back to business,” Lin said, doing an impressive job of sounding controlled. Tenzin forced himself to do the same.

                “As you say,” Tenzin said, the words sticking in his throat. He couldn’t get the image of that family out of his mind. What possible answer could there be for such senseless violence?

                While he was lost in his own thoughts, Lin had taken a file from the front seat. She handed it to him. He blinked, glancing down at it. It was a police report on a wanted criminal.

                “You’ll be interested in this one. Calls herself Ms. Breeze.”

                “Ms. Breeze,” Tenzin repeated incredulously. Ever since Amon had appeared, Republic City had been beset by a plague of crooks coming up with grandiose titles for themselves. He read through the report. The woman was apparently of middling height, muscular in build, with a history on the streets. According to what the report said, she claimed to be—“An airbender?!” Tenzin blurted. “That’s impossible!”

                “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? If some Air Temple Monk got someone pregnant a couple hundred years ago and the gift passed all the way down the line, it could happen,” Lin said evenly.

                “Ridiculous! No one has ever heard of such a thing happening!” Tenzin refused to believe this. Airbending was sacred. Airbending was his father’s gift to the world, an art that was never used to hurt or steal.

                “Well, the rumours are awfully specific. Apparently her speciality is sucking the air out of a building until everyone inside has passed out. Is such a thing possible?” The hard reality in Lin’s tone forced Tenzin to answer.

                “In _theory_ , yes, but no one has ever done such a barbarous thing.”

                “Well, someone might have started, and she’s just the latest nut. Apparently there’s some maniac going around wearing black, beating up thugs.”

                “It sounds like this person is on our side, then,” Tenzin said tentatively. Things were better between him and Lin, now, but it had never been a good idea to disagree with her directly.

                “It _sounds_ like she’s a vigilante who’s going to get herself killed. Or worse, kill someone else while she’s at it. Luckily, neither has happened yet.” Lin sighed. “ _Yet_ being the operative term. I’ve got men looking for her, but she’s good at covering her tracks.” There was a very begrudging respect in Lin’s voice.

                “Does this one have a name, too?” Tenzin felt tired. Lin might find police work helped her keep her mind off what had happened, but it only made Tenzin think of how many more tragedies were yet to come.

                “A couple. The people she’s saved are calling her the Night Spirit. The thugs I questioned referred to her as ‘That Bitch.’ She hasn’t commented on either nickname. No one’s ever heard her talk, or seen her face.” Tenzin could almost hear Lin’s keen mind revving up, itching to take apart another puzzle. Tenzin had never understood how she could stay focused on her duty in the wake of such pain. It had been one of the things he had admired about her. It still was. “I’m willing to let her go about her business while we try and round up this ‘Breeze.’ I know this is supposed to be police work, but I want you involved in this, Tenzin. My men have never fought an airbender, and your expertise might be useful.”

                “ _If_ she really is an airbender,” Tenzin said. He very seriously doubted this woman’s claims were genuine. No doubt she had some sort of clever machine or … something.

                “If not, that’s lovely for you. Until otherwise, though, we’re treating this woman as a potential threat. She’s been mostly contenting herself to small-scale mob business, but she’s getting arrogant. Soon her operation is going to start turning up bodies. I do not need to remind you that we can’t let that happen.”

                “No,” Tenzin said softly. He knew that they were both thinking of that poor mother and daughter. “No, that we cannot.”

xXx

                The staff at Asami’s estate didn’t quite know what to make of her new guest. He was unfailingly polite and obviously intelligent, but had shown up at the door wearing rags and reeking of sewers, holding onto Ms. Sato herself, who hadn’t been smelling that great, either. Some of the newer workers, less accustomed to the young heiress, hadn’t quite known what to make of seeing their employer so despoiled. The more experienced ones sort of sighed and wondered what exactly it was that Ms. Sato had gotten herself into this time.

                Asami didn’t bother explaining herself; to the few staff who cared, it would only worry them, and those that didn’t would only have a bit of gossip to chew on. She set up Ibushi in a comfortable suite in the East Wing, providing him with a well-made cane and a wardrobe. He had thanked her deeply and begged her leave to get himself ready for supper. She had granted it. He needed to know she trusted him.

                _Do I trust him?_ Asami thought, and found she wasn’t sure. She knew the man had made an enemy of her father shortly after her mother’s death, and she knew that he couldn’t have had anything to do with that … _thing_ that had happened.

                She took a deep breath and went to supper, having _thoroughly_ cleaned herself. She was dressed in practical but well-made attire, as was her custom. She was curious to see which outfit Ibushi would choose from the many her staff had provided him.

                It turned out that he had chosen a simple pair of black pants and a crisp gold-embroidered red shirt. He had, miraculously, produced a bronze hawk’s head pin and affixed it to his left breast. He was leaning heavily on the sturdy cane she’d provided, but he was smiling when he came to dinner and inclined his head respectfully.

                “I cannot properly express my gratitude, Ms. Sato. I fear I’m quite out of the habit of being comfortable,” he said, his fierce eyes twinkling with good humour. He was a hard man to read.

                “Under the circumstances I’ll forgive you,” Asami replied dryly, gesturing to the dinner table. He smiled again and took a seat, Asami following suit. A few servers brought out some food, and Asami thanked them for their service.

                “I don’t suppose they’re still paid the same wages as when I was last here, are they?” Ibushi asked shamelessly, digging into some noodles with gusto. He managed to comport himself with dignity, but he _had_ just been freed from prison after a twelve-year stay.

                “Not anymore,” Asami said, a hint of bitter reproach in her voice. When she had taken over all her father’s holdings, she had been stunned at the wages of their house staff. They hadn’t been paid poorly, but what they _had_ been paid was the bare minimum that her father thought he could get away with.

                “That’s good,” Ibushi murmured. He was paying more attention to his noodles than he was to his rescuer. Asami couldn’t blame him. She’d seen what the gate guard had referred to with a dark pleasure as “the slop bucket” on the way out of the prison. Asami, meanwhile, was hardly eating. The smell of the ‘Hole had stayed with her, as well as something else. That place had felt _wrong_.

                After a while, Ibushi apparently had his fill and looked up at her.

                “So, it’s your father’s secrets that you’re after, then?”

                “That was direct.” Asami couldn’t help but grin. Ibushi had a way of getting past your defences. She still wasn’t sure what to make of that.

                “Beg pardon. I’m accustomed to directness. That, and time alone with my thoughts. Now they’re spilling everywhere and I don’t quite know what to do with them. If you could find out who I am, then I shudder to wonder what you need _me_ for.”

                He was still deciding if he trusted her. Asami could respect that. Knowing what her father was … she could certainly understand it. Asami pushed her noodles away from her and leaned towards Ibushi.

                “When my mother died, each and every one of Future Industries’ most advanced defence programs just up and vanished. Whole warehouses of material, millions of yuans in research … gone. Years of work disappeared in a matter of months. Then there’s some evidence that my father led a rather exhaustive tour of his facilities. After that, we find you in the ‘Hole on expertly faked charges.”

                “How do you know they were faked?” Ibushi asked, sounding genuinely interested. Asami’s lips curled into a grin.

                “I have my methods.”

                “I’d give a great deal to find out what those ‘methods’ are. Not that I have much to give right now.”

                “What I think you have is the location of all those projects you hid from my father when you realized my mother’s death had driven him insane.”

                “Your father was never insane,” Ibushi said quietly, staring at his empty bowl of noodles. “He was my friend. He was a brilliant man. And he had no idea how to cope with loss. He turned to all the wrong places.” Ibushi wasn’t looking at anything, Asami realized. He must’ve been in the habit of seeing things only in his own mind.

                “What were the right places, then?” Ibushi looked up at her slowly. She saw the lines in his face, saw what must have been suffering she couldn’t fathom. All because her father had been paranoid and filled with hate.

                “The right place to turn was with you,” Ibushi said, without particular inflection. She could feel him testing her. “The question is, where did you turn?”

                “The same place you did, I imagine. Inwards.”

                The silence between them wasn’t tense, or suspicious. It was almost sacred. Ibushi looked into her eyes for a long while, and then sighed.

                “You look so much like your mother. You must tire of hearing that, but it’s true. She was the best thing to ever happen to him. My friend … I always thought that his greatest sin was that he loved her too much. He loved her too exclusively. She was his world.”

                Asami was about to say something, but before she opened her mouth the doorbell rang through the mansion. She got to her feet.

                “Excuse me.”

                “Don’t you have someone to answer doors for you?” Ibushi asked wryly. Asami grimaced.

                “Our old butler quit in the aftermath from Amon’s rebellion. I haven’t managed to find a new one. Help yourself to a second dish. There’s plenty more to eat,” Asami gestured at the table, laden with several dishes from different cultures. She hadn’t known what Ibushi preferred. He grinned cheerfully and helped himself to some dumplings.

                When Asami got to the door, she was moderately surprised to find Bolin waiting for her, rocking impatiently on his heels. Pabu was nestled happily on his shoulders, peering at her.

                “Asami! Hi!” Bolin walked heedlessly over the threshold to her house and grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug, painfully reminding Asami that her right ribs were still sore. She grimaced and extracted herself from Bolin’s relentless enthusiasm. He didn’t seem to notice. “It’s been way too long!”

                “It has.” Asami couldn’t help but smile. Mako and Korra were a little distant, which wasn’t surprising. Well, Asami didn’t find it surprising; Bolin, meanwhile, didn’t seem to notice that Team Avatar had broken up. “I was just getting some dinner with an … associate. Would you like to come join us?”

                “You know the answer to that question,” Bolin said simply, following Asami to the dining room. “I haven’t eaten anything in at _least_ two hours.” Asami laughed and opened the door to the dining room. Ibushi was waiting for them, already having devoured several dumplings. He’d now moved on to some Water Tribe seal dish that made Asami’s stomach turn. Ibushi smiled and got to his feet.

                “Bolin, this is Ibushi Makarai. An old business associate of my father’s,” Asami said cordially. Bolin looked a little concerned at the mention of Asami’s father, but didn’t say anything about it.

                “It’s an honour to meet you, sir,” Bolin said, bowing a little more grandly than was necessary. Ibushi barked out a surprised laugh and waved his hand.

                “The honour is all mine.” Ibushi immediately sat down and returned to his food. Asami took a seat and watched with some amusement as Bolin strategically situated himself next to as many dishes as possible. Pabu waited obediently by the table for Bolin to feed him scraps. Asami took her own seat and poked at her noodles.

                “You’ll never guess who I bumped into down by the Arena!” Bolin said, after he’d rather liberally filled a plate with as many different kinds of meat as possible. “Commissioner Bei Fong!”

                “That’s interesting,” Asami said carefully. She had more than a couple reasons to not want Commissioner Bei Fong looking too closely at anything Asami was doing.

                “Yeah, you’re tellin’ me,” Bolin said heedlessly, tossing a bit of charred salmon to Pabu. “She actually asked me to join the police force!” Bolin waved his chopsticks around enthusiastically, a piece of salmon flying off of them and hitting a very expensive chandelier. Bolin froze in place, watching the ornament sway dangerously for a few seconds. When it appeared that nothing had been damaged but Bolin’s dignity, he let out a sigh of relief. Asami chuckled.

                “You were saying something about Commissioner Bei Fong?”

                “Huh? Oh, yeah,” Bolin said, still looking fairly mortified, “She, uh, said I ought to try out to be a metalbender. I was kind of wondering what you thought about it.”

                “Have you asked Korra? This sort of thing is her speciality,” Asami said quietly, noticing how Ibushi was watching them both very carefully.

                “Well, she’s always busy, and I figured I hadn’t seen you in a while.” Bolin looked at her imploringly, the effect somewhat ruined when he stuffed his cheeks with noodles. He gulped them down. “So? What do you think?”

                “I think it’s a good idea. You’re a fabulous earthbender—”

                “You got that right!” Bolin said. Asami smiled. Bolin was one of the rare people who boasted without seeming arrogant; maybe it was because he’d just as quickly point out how amazing someone _else_ was.

                “And you’ve probably got more experience fighting than most of the other benders in the city. That, and you’d make an honest cop. This city could use as many of those as it could get.”

                “Sure could. Hey, why don’t you try and join up—you’re the most kick-butt fighter I’ve ever _seen_!” Bolin somehow didn’t see the impossibility in the statement.

                “I’m not a bender, Bolin,” Asami said gently. “The police only take earthbenders.” Bolin frowned.

                “Well, that doesn’t seem right.”

                “No, it doesn’t.” For the first time, Ibushi had spoken up. Bolin blinked and stared at him, slurping down some noodles with a bit more decorum than he had before. “The argument is, of course, that metalbending is the unique province of the Republic City police, and that is what enables them to do their jobs so well.” Ibushi paused, and looked at Bolin for a long time, considering him seriously with those thoughtful dark eyes. “What do you think?”

                “Well, I think that’s ridiculous,” Bolin said, somewhat pensively. “I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Asami in a fight, but she could probably hold her own against any bender I’ve ever met. And the Equalists themselves proved that non-benders can handle themselves, even if they were, um…”

                “A menace,” Asami interjected, somewhat more harshly than she’d intended. Bolin looked stricken.

                “Oh, Asami, I didn’t mean to—”

                “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Asami said, unable to stay upset at the look on Bolin’s face. “But you’re right. Non-benders can take care of themselves, if they train for it. Maybe if they’d let us into the police force then there wouldn’t have been so many capable Equalist fighters.”

                “Exactly!” Bolin said, waving his chopsticks around again. “I mean, everyone should be able to protect the people they care about.”

                “Well, when you’re an officer serving Republic City, maybe you can bring it up,” Asami said, sounding more relieved than she had in days. Bolin had a way of making everything seem a little less severe.

                “ _If_ I get that far. I’d need to learn metalbending, first.”

                “I’m sure you’ll take to it quickly enough. You were always a thrill to watch in the Pro Bending Arena.”

                “Well, yeah, but the kind of bending that Korra and the police do is different. More … solid,” Bolin said, searching around for a word to describe what he meant. “I’m mostly used to throwing little earth discs at people. The stuff you and Iroh saw me do was honestly pretty new for me.” There was the slightest hint of hesitation in Bolin’s voice.

                “Well, if that was you trying out something new, I can’t wait to see what you’ll be able to do with a little practice,” Asami said warmly. Bolin grinned.

                “So you two know each other quite well, I take it?” Ibushi said suddenly, surprising them both again.

                “Oh, yeah, we go way back,” Bolin said, perhaps exaggerating slightly. “Asami used to date my brother. She’s one of the members of Team Avatar!” Ibushi looked a little strangely at Bolin, as though he’d said something funny, but he didn’t comment further. Asami wondered if Bolin realized just how far apart Team Avatar had grown. Then again, she was the only one who had really gone a different path. Korra, Mako, and now Bolin, it seemed, were all training their bending. Korra and Mako were dating, and Bolin was Mako’s brother. The only one really left out of that equation was her.

                _Don’t be stupid_ , she told herself harshly, pushing the unproductive thoughts out of her mind.

                “Team Avatar?” Ibushi asked finally, succumbing to his own curiosity.

                “We’re _basically_ the coolest group of crime-fighters ever. Avatar Korra, Asami, Mako, and I all teamed together to take Amon down. Anyway,” Bolin said, turning to Asami, “what have _you_ been doing lately, Asami? No one’s heard from you in ages!”

                “Well, I’m mostly trying to keep my family’s business intact, and trying to put it to good use,” Asami said with a shrug. Future Industries had paid for nearly half the reconstruction projects around Republic City. “It doesn’t leave me much time.”

                “Wow. When you put it like that I kinda feel lazy.” Bolin stared at his bowl for a long moment, absently feeding Pabu under the table. “You know, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna become a cop.” There was a different look on his face, one Asami hadn’t often seen before. He was absolutely serious.

                “That’s great, Bolin.” Bolin laughed and shrugged.

                “Well, if you’re off saving the city with your company, I figure I oughta do my part. Hey, um, I should probably head back to Air Temple Island, I, uh, forgot to mention I was visiting you. Mako’s gonna be worried sick.”

                “All right. It was nice seeing you again, Bolin.” Asami got up to see him off. Before he left, he turned to her and said,

                “Hey, I’ll come see you sometime soon!”

                “Thanks, Bo.”

                When she closed the door and turned around, she found Ibushi had followed her, still leaning heavily on his cane. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked content. Satisfied, maybe.

                “Well, Ms. Sato, I’m convinced. I’ll show you all the toys I hid away twelve years ago.”

xXx

                It was quite the trip out to Ibushi’s warehouse, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Asami had always figured he’d hid his projects in a remote location. If her father had been able to hide an entire factory beneath their house, she didn’t doubt Ibushi was able to find some secret location for his items.

                When they arrived at the place Ibushi described, Asami had to laugh.

                “I don’t believe it.”

                “Pardon?” Ibushi said, gingerly extracting himself from Asami’s car. His knee was obviously giving him severe trouble. Asami made a mental note to find him a good healer.

                “Never mind. Ibushi, what made you choose this place?” The warehouse was near those same cliffs that Asami had emerged from all those years ago, when she’d gone hunting for bats.

                “Would you believe me if I— _ah_ ,” Ibushi gasped and leaned against the Satomobile, before Asami rushed over to help support him. He grimaced and said, “Thank you. As I was saying … would you believe me if I said I felt compelled?”

                “I would, actually.” Asami helped Ibushi towards the warehouse, until he seemed able to walk without her support. “But surely you didn’t just store all your creations _here_? My father must’ve known about this place.”

                Ibushi grinned like an acrobat on a stage.

                “Just wait and see.”

                He led her into the warehouse, taking her through a labyrinth of boxes and shelves. They all looked like uniform industrial crates, though they were dusty. Dustier than they should’ve been, at any rate. Normally a warehouse like this would see a pretty quick shuffling of its inventory as various parts were sold or used … but the crates here had collected a decade’s worth of dust. Asami found that she was disappointed that her father hadn’t picked up on that in _his_ search through his warehouses.

                “This way,” Ibushi said smartly, turning through a few aisles into a winding path made by crates stacked closely together. They never would have just happened upon this location. Asami had to admit, Ibushi was good. He pointed his cane at a spot on the floor. “Stand there, please.”

                Asami blinked, and did as he said. Curiosity was all but eating away at her by this point.

                “Make sure to stand still.”

                “What exactly—” Ibushi raised a finger to his lips, still grinning. He opened a small box on a nearby shelf and pushed at something. Asami heard a clicking noise, and then with a sudden shudder the floor started to sink. She managed to disguise her startled gasp as an amused laugh. “Well. So _that’s_ why no one ever found this place.”

                Ibushi continued to look very pleased with himself.

                “I just had this installation constructed before your father arranged for my sojourn in the Hole.” Ibushi sounded remarkably calm for somebody speaking about his twelve-year false incarceration. “Which was lucky. Most of these were advanced defence projects, projects which I’m afraid to say would’ve fit rather neatly into Amon’s plans.”

                “Why were you making advanced defence projects?” Asami asked, as the stone slab they were standing on finally lowered into a completely hidden lower floor. A series of overhead lights lit up a vast, carefully ordered warehouse filled with neatly stacked metal crates. Asami looked up to see a false floor sliding into place where their platform had been.

                “The idea was, we’d come to the City council with ideas for a non-bending police force.” Ibushi walked forward, leaning heavily on his cane. Asami followed him. “So that meant coming up with equipment that non-benders could use to combat a bender. Unfortunately, most of it was too expensive to mass-produce. Ah, here we are.”

                Ibushi opened a crate, revealing a pair of black suits, bulky with armour plating. One was outfitted for a man, the other for a woman. Asami reached out and touched the female suit, feeling the fabric. The plates felt like a hard plastic, or maybe metal, while the fabric itself was thick and tough, though flexible. She looked at Ibushi.

                “Protective armour, specifically engineered to shield against bending,” Ibushi explained, gesturing to the male suit to explain. “The fabric underlay is heat-resistant, and sealed against water. The armour plating is a durable weave that contains metal mixed carefully with a unique plastic-base material. You can’t bend the armour, but it can take the bite out of most impacts. Someone wearing one of these can take a fifteen-story drop and keep going.”

                “What about lightning?” Asami had to admit, she was impressed.

                “The armour plating on the chest and back should absorb any one blast of lightning pretty safely. After that, though … well, let’s just say things are less certain,” Ibushi said dryly. He closed the crate again.

                “Too expensive for mass production, I gather?” Asami was having a little trouble keeping up with Ibushi, even with his cane. He was obviously eager to show off.

                “You’ve hit the mark. Well, there’s also the small matter of a non-bending police force being denied every time it was brought up.” Ibushi reached another crate and pulled it open, this time revealing a pair of sleek gauntlets. He pointed at one that had a pair of long blade-like extensions coming from the wrist. He hit a button on the gauntlet, and the extensions unfolded to create a crossbow-like weapon. “Wrist-mounted crossbow. Thanks to an internal gas-powered crank in the gauntlet, this baby can punch a hole in a half-inch of metal.” He pointed to a series of small bolts, each in a slightly different coloured container. He pointed to some bolts in a red container. “These bolts have a gel-tip that explodes if they’re in close proximity to these—” He pointed to a dark blue container, “Which release an electrical burst once they impact a surface. These can also incapacitate an adult, though they won’t do fatal damage unless you aim for a vital organ.” He pointed to a dark brown canister. “These arrow heads disperse pressurized powdered plastic. If you shoot it into a body of water, fire, or air that someone’s bending, it severs the connection between the bender and the element. Won’t work on earth-benders, though; that’s what the explosives are for.”

                “What about kickback?” Asami asked. “Something like this has to put strain on whoever’s shooting it.

                “Not a problem. The firing mechanism has its own separate mount which absorbs the force from the bolts.”

                Asami realized that he had left the last container of bolts alone, one that was slick black. She pointed to that one.

                “And these?”

                “These match the other gauntlet.” Ibushi pointed to that one, and Asami saw there was a small recess near the armguard above the wrist. “Insert one into that gauntlet, it catches on a 500-pound wire. Shoot it, and the head will pierce nearly any surface. There are serrated hooks on the arrowhead, so that it’s real hard to get these suckers out, unless you hit _this_ switch,” he gestured to a black button in the wrist of the gauntlet. “Which disengages the hooks.” Asami’s eyebrows raised in comprehension.

                “So you can swing around like a metalbender.”

                “Something like that, yes. Now this, I’m particularly proud of.” Ibushi opened another case and pulled out a long, black cloth. Asami stared. “Like the fabric in the armour, this is heat-resistant. If someone wearing that armour wraps themselves in this, they could charge straight into an inferno without feeling the heat. What’s more, there are seven poles in the fabric that are normally flexible. However, if you introduce a weak electric current to the fabric, the poles go rigid. It can be deployed as a parachute in less than a second.” To demonstrate, he pulled out a device that looked like a sleeker, more efficient version of the Equalist electroglove and pressed it to the fabric. It immediately sprang into a large, circular shape.

                “Do you think it could be tailored to different shapes?” Asami asked, an image forming in her mind. She remembered the great, expansive wings of the bat spirit that had guided her through that cave. Ibushi shrugged.

                “Certainly, if you reposition the poles.” Ibushi marched off towards one last container, and dramatically turned to it and laid a hand on the case. “Now, this is my personal favourite.” To Asami’s surprise, he actually wiggled his eyebrows. The gesture seemed so out of place on his lined face that she had to laugh. He lifted the case to reveal …

                A pair of goggles. They were black-tinted, which was interesting enough, but otherwise there didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about them.

                “The glass in these goggles,” Ibushi began, “Is harder than most metals. An earthbender guided sand into a firebender’s flame, and when the sand was fully melted, Avatar Aang himself blew air onto the molten glass. As it cooled, it was dipped in sacred spirit water. These were the result.” He raised the goggles proudly and offered them to Asami. “Try them on.”

                “You managed to get a favour from Avatar Aang?” Asami asked.

                “It wasn’t hard to get a favour from Avatar Aang. That man was always giving.” Ibushi sounded very sad about that. “I had them made when I was very young. You could say they were a pet project of mine. Go on, go on.”

                Asami somewhat reluctantly pressed the goggles to her face, then snapped them away in surprise. Ibushi grinned, and Asami put them back on. Everything seen through the goggles was slightly blue-tinted, and when she looked at Ibushi, she could see faint red lines moving beneath his skin, radiating out from his chest and down through his limbs.

                “What am I looking at?”

                “Chi lines. You can’t tell with someone like me or you, but on a bender, you can actually watch whatever energy it is that powers bending go to work, as a light moving through the chi lines. You’ll also see the lines get thicker and redder as someone’s more agitated. If you wanted to, you could use them as a sort of cheat for chi blocking.”

                “This is _incredible_. Hang on, let me try something.” Asami picked up the metal case that the goggles had been in and held it between her and Ibushi. She could still see the chi-lines through the metal. “These can’t have been easy to make.”

                “Well, I told you how complicated the process was. You’re wearing the only pair in existence.” He held out his hand, and Asami gave him the goggles back. “So, what do you think?”

                “Well, I think this is all about as practical for a police force as a gold-plated sword,” Asami said dryly. “Though hopefully a great deal more effective.” Ibushi grinned with her.

                “Oh, that I guarantee.” He paused and ran the goggles over in his hand. “I realize now that all these grandiose projects were a sort of … well, call it youthful enthusiasm. Hard as it may be to imagine, I _was_ young once; young and bright and too hardheaded for my own good.” He laughed a little, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “I think I wanted to prove that someone like me—a non-bender—could be just as great as the Avatar. Each fantastic, improbable, exuberantly expensive thing I created was another way for non-benders to be useful.” He paused, and then looked at Asami curiously, the hard shrewdness returning to his eyes. He didn’t seem unkind, just … sharp. Like a hawk. “So, what’s your interest in all this, Ms. Sato?”

                Asami smiled.

                “Maybe I’ve got some youthful enthusiasm of my own.”

xXx

                Two petty criminals swaggered through the streets as the dark of night crept over Republic City like a veil. They thought they were safe in it, drunk on power and wine. They had the unmistakeable air of small men raised above their capability.

                “C’mon, let’s head in. The boys are expecting us,” one said to the other, as they came upon an old, derelict house. It was actually rather handsome despite its obvious age and neglect. The first man fumbled in his pocket for some keys.

                “Sounds kinda quiet, doesn’t it?” The other said, only vaguely interested.

                “Eh, they’re probably just dead drunk.” The first man found his keys and pushed open the door, revealing a spacious house that had obviously been converted to a temporary hideout. There were plenty of buildings like this, old homes that had been deserted in the aftermath of the revolution. They entered the building to find it was pitch-black, and as far as they could tell, empty. “Hey, what the—why’re all the lights off? Hey! Guys!”

                A stone slab shot up behind them in place of the door. For a very long time, neither of them moved. One was an earthbender, and tried to move the stone, but something was holding it in place.

                “By the spirits,” the first man muttered, stumbling forward in the dark. He tripped on something soft on the floor, and landed in a dark, sticky puddle. He realized with mute horror that the puddle was blood, and he’d tripped on a body. A dead body.

“What the hell is going on?!”

The voice that answered him was clear and whimsical.

                “My question exactly!” It came from deeper in the house. Both men were both aware of quick, even steps, and a figure emerged from the shadowy kitchen into the main area where they were standing. He was wearing a long coat and tattered pants, though his chest was bare. His hair was long and scrupulously clean, and though his face was handsome, it was marked by three nasty-looking scars. The scars caught what little light there was in the room and made his face seem more terrible than it was.

                “You’d better start explaining things fast—” Whatever posturing the crook had prepared to say, he didn’t manage to get it out. The man in the coat moved impossibly fast, opening the throat of one man with a knife and then pinning the other to the wall. His grip was astonishingly fierce.

                “Again, you mirror my sentiment.” He sounded supremely bored. “You and your late companion work for the charmingly named Ms. Breeze. Correct?”

                For a moment, the man in the monster’s grasp stayed silent. The scarred man rolled his eyes.

                “I’ve already killed all your little friends here, you know. You are not special. If you don’t start talking I’ll find another of Ms. Breeze’s tight-lipped employees. But I might make a particularly messy business of your death.” He flashed a brilliant smile.

                “All right, fine—fine!” The man tried to gasp for air, clawing at his throat. The scarred man’s grip was like a vice.

                “Your boss is gathering up half the city’s crimelords for a little get-together. Where?”

                “It’s on Avenue X, in Old Earthtown. One of the big warehouses, uh, the number was—”

                “D-26?”

                “Yeah, that’s it! Wait, how did you know that?”

                “Well, five of your friends already told me. Just had to be sure.” With deliberate patience, he thrust his knife into the crook’s throat. He ignored the helpless gurgling of the dying man. “It’s funny, you know. Every one of you thought I’d just take your word.”


	3. Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami finishes preparing her suit, now ready to take the fury she feels at her father out on the criminals of Repbulic City. Bolin decides to become a metalbender, which terrifies Mako. And finally, the secrets buried beneath Republic City begin to rise. the criminal underworld boils over in an explosion of violence that will leave nothing the same for this great city, as a cruel monster unleashes cold hate on the city that chained him.

                Mako waited with one of the guards at Air Temple Island, trying to resist the urge to pace back and forth and scream. His brother was going to join the police force. His _brother_. _Bolin._ A guy whose chief concerns, until a few months ago, had been pro bending, noodles, and the acquisition of more noodles. The idea of him in a uniform was beyond thinking. The idea of him out fighting people made Mako’s blood run cold. This was somehow _worse_ than when he’d gone out with the Triple Triads a couple times for money. The Triple Triads were small-fry, but the cops regularly dealt with people who wanted to kill them. Just last week a police officer had been killed; it was all over the news, though there was no mention of how or why. Mako was terrified Bolin didn’t know what he was getting into, or worse, that he _did_.

                Pema finally came to the main gate of the complex, looking somewhat harried but content. When she saw Mako she rolled her eyes at the guard and said,

                “I think we can stand to house the Avatar’s boyfriend for a little while.” She smiled apologetically at him. “Sorry, Mako. I know this is a pain, but rules are rules.”

                “It’s okay,” Mako said, managing to not sound as if he were a loud noise away from a total panic attack. “Everyone’s still a little on edge.”

                Pema walked with him as he went to Korra’s room. He couldn’t blame her for being so starved for conversation; security measures on the island had never been stricter. They had been starting to loosen up for a while, but after that police officer’s death, things had grown even worse. At first Mako had thought it was just paranoia, but both Tenzin and Pema immediately hushed up whenever the subject was broached, and their moods darkened. They had nearly lost their kids not so long ago, Mako had to remind himself. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to make sure their children were safe.

                “How’s your training with the police going?” Pema asked, obviously searching for something to talk about.

                “It’s going well,” Mako said honestly. The police were only taking the best firebending recruits; being able to bend lightning was a requirement.

                “Oh. That’s nice.”

                “Yeah.”

                Pema seemed like there was something else she wanted to say, but she held it back. That was just as well as far as Mako was concerned. He’d never been a big talker.

                “Well, uh, I’m going to go talk to Korra, now.”

                “Of course.” Pema smiled, but it was strained. She was nervous. So was Tenzin, when he was around, and the few times Mako had seen Commissioner Lin—she occasionally oversaw the training of firebenders and waterbenders—she seemed even worse. Not nervous or frightened, but angry.

                _Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe they’re just still shaken up over what happened with Amon._ Lin had nearly lost her bending—well, she _had_ lost her bending—defending Tenzin and Pema’s children. But they had seemed to be adjusting fairly well since all of that. No, whatever it was that worried them, it had to do with that cop’s death. But none of them were saying a word about it.

                He went to open the door to Korra’s room, to find it opening for him. On the other side was Korra, looking exuberant and dishevelled in airbender clothing that she’d managed to almost completely ruin. The light fabrics that the Air monks used didn’t stand up much to someone like Korra. She laughed and embraced him, nearly tackling him to the ground.

                “Hey, Mako! I didn’t expect to see you for a little while.”

                Mako smiled in spite of himself. Korra had a way of blasting through his bad moods with the force of a battering ram. Only _Korra_ could be apprenticed to Tenzin as a spiritual learner and manage to come out of it looking like she’d just wrestled a hurricane, and won.

                “Well, there’s news. You going to let me in?” Korra laughed at him and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind him. Her room was an absolute mess, dirty clothes strewn everywhere. He gathered from a pile of balled up pieces of paper that she’d grown bored and had started flinging them at the wall. As the person who had been cleaning up after Bolin for years, he couldn’t help but want to set it all to order. He’d given up on doing so weeks ago, though; the room would just get messy again and he’d drive himself crazy.

                “Hello? Earth to Mako? You said there was news?” Korra waved a hand in front of his face and he blinked.

                “Right. Sorry. I was admiring your handiwork.” Korra stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s about Bolin.”

                “Oh? What about him? I haven’t seen him around in ages,” Korra said idly, sitting down on her bed. Mako sat next to her, though he didn’t wrap his arm around her as he might have normally. Instead Korra wrapped her arm around _him_. She kissed him on the cheek. “Come on. What’s bugging you?”

                “Bolin told me he’s going to join the metalbending police,” Mako said. To his consternation, Korra did not seem upset.

                “What? That’s great!”

                “What do you mean that’s great?” Mako blurted, turning to stare at her. “He could get himself killed!”

                “Uh, so could _you_ , but you don’t see _me_ going all mother hen about it,” Korra pointed out. “It’s Bolin’s choice, isn’t it? He’s a great earthbender, and I think the police force could use someone like him.”

                “Someone like my _brother?_ ” Mako was aghast.

                “Someone who wants to help people.”

                “What, I don’t?” Mako asked dryly. Korra rolled her eyes.

                “You do, but … well, you and Bolin are different. I think you’ll _both_ make great cops.”

                “But that’s not the point!” Mako said without real conviction. “It’s _Bolin!_ Bolin never thinks about things before he does them! He could get himself hurt, or—”

                “ _Or_ ,” Korra said, poking him in the ribs with the arm that wasn’t wrapped around his shoulders, “He could be a great police officer. This is _his_ choice, Mako, he’s got the right to make it as much as you do.”

                “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Mako hung his head in defeat. Having the most beautiful woman in the world next to him eased the sting a little, though. Korra grinned apologetically, which basically meant she wasn’t sorry at all.

“Commissioner Lin asked me if I thought Bolin had what it takes. I told her the truth.”

                “You said yes,” Mako surmised glumly.

                “I told her the _truth_. Bolin’s an amazing bender, and he’s got a good heart. He’s smarter than most people give him credit for, too.”

                “Yeah.” Mako couldn’t help but agree with her there. Mako thought the world of his brother, even if Bolin _did_ drive him crazy sometimes. “I’m just … I’m worried, Korra. I keep thinking about that time Amon caught him.”

                “If that happens, we’ll be there to bail his butt out just like last time. Or who knows? Maybe it’ll be Bolin doing the rescuing.”

                “What, rescuing _you?_ The mighty Avatar?” Korra laughed and punched him in the side.

                “I’ll have you know I am a _deeply_ spiritual Avatar. I am above such taunts.” Korra looked away from him with such a haughty pout that Mako had to laugh, even if his side hurt.

                “Yeah, I was a fool to doubt you.”

                “Yep, you sure were. Now how about you make some of those pork dumplings as an apology?”

                “The things I do for love,” Mako sighed, getting to his feet. Korra gave an exaggerated sigh and shrugged her shoulders.

                “They don’t eat meat! Not a bit of meat! It’s driving me crazy!”

                “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll have to ask the guards if I can use their ingredients again.” Korra winked at him.

                “I’m sure you’re up to it. This deeply spiritual Avatar needs to eat something _fierce_. Ooh, and Water Tribe noodles!”

                “Sure, if you cook ‘em. I have no idea how to make Water Tribe noodles.”

                “Okay, well, I can show you! I think.” Korra frowned and tapped a finger to her chin. “Yeah. Yeah, I can show you. If they have the stuff to use here.”

                “I’m sure they do. Some of the guards come from the Southern Water Tribe, and Tenzin’s good about keeping them all stocked with stuff from home.”

                “Yes!” Korra pumped her fist in the air. “Wanna air-scooter over to the kitchens?”

                “I doubt that’ll make them want to accept our request,” Mako replied.

                “What do you mean ‘our request’?” Korra blinked innocently, and Mako couldn’t help but laugh.

                “We’re about to ask if we can eat their food, remember?”

                “Oh. Right. Um, maybe you have a point.”

**xXx**

                Bolin was sitting in quite possibly the most uncomfortable chair he had ever sat in, waiting somewhat impatiently for Commissioner Lin to send him into her office. He drummed his fingers against his knees as he waited, wondering what it was that Commissioner Lin was so busy with.

                After a while, a metalbending police officer came up to him and jerked her thumb at Lin’s office.

                “She’s got a moment now. If you want to talk to her I’d get in fast, the Commissioner’s a busy woman.”

                Bolin got to his feet and bowed respectfully.

                “Thank you!”  He went into Commissioner Lin’s office as fast as he dared, trying to summon up the severe, important look that Mako always had. He found he couldn’t do it, sighed, and entered Lin’s office with no small amount of apprehension.

                The inside of her office was much like the rest of the police headquarters. It was furnished with angular, metal furniture, had a high ceiling, small windows, a pair of overstuffed bookcases, and one very large desk that Lin was sitting behind. There were stacks of papers of various kinds heaped everywhere across its surface, though Lin had cleared a small space for herself to work and write on. She looked up when Bolin came in. To his surprise, she actually smiled, a sort of half-smirk.

                “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever show up, young man. Come on, sit down,” she gestured to a chair across from her desk. Bolin took it nervously. He wondered if it was just him, or if every chair in the police station was this uncomfortable. Lin went back to writing something down on a report, then looked back up at him. “So, you want to be police.”

                “Well, you suggested—”

                “I meant it as a question.”

                “Oh.”

                “Well. Is this what you want?”

                “Yeah, I think—”

                “You’d better be surer about it than that,” Lin said. She was looking at him above steepled fingers, her expression serious. Not like he’d ever known Lin Bei Fong to be anything other than serious.

                “Yes.” Bolin sat up a little straighter in his chair. _Spirits_ it was uncomfortable. “I want to help people.”

                “Good. We need more cops who don’t just want to beat people up.” Abruptly, she closed the file she’d been working on. “If you do this, though, there’s something you should know.”

                The hair on the back of Bolin’s neck stood up. “Ma’am?”

                “Understand that what I’m about to tell you can’t spread. If the public got word of this there’d be mass panic. But if you’re about to sign up to be a cop, you deserve to know the stakes.” Bolin nodded. “You heard about the police officer that died about a week ago?”

                Bolin felt a stab of sadness and nodded again. He hadn’t known the officer or his family, but whenever anyone died, it was always so sad. It made him think of his parents, of the countless other orphans he’d known. Not all of them had been as lucky as Bolin had, to have someone like Mako to look out for them. Some of them had been forced to endure losing their brothers and sisters, as well. Bolin had no idea how he’d ever have dealt with that.

                “Yeah, I heard about that,” Bolin said softly.

                “Well, we think we know who did it.” Lin took a breath. She seemed to be steadying herself for something. “When Officer Korrlac was killed, a prisoner escaped from a top-security cell at the same time. The connection seems obvious. What’s more important, though, is _who_ that prisoner is.” Lin paused, and a strange look passed through her eyes. For a moment she looked almost grief-stricken. “He’s a mass-murdering sociopath who nearly terrorized the countryside into submission twenty-five years ago. He was called the Black Tiger. He’s an earthbender; he’d bend shards of obsidian like claws, and, well, you can let your imagination do the rest. He’s cunning, ruthless, and I’ve never known the man to possess an ounce of mercy. He’s about six feet tall, has black hair, bright green eyes, Earth Kingdom features, and three scars on his face, like mine.” Lin gestured to her own cheek. “If you _ever_ see this man, you run. Do nothing else. Do not talk to him, do not try to fight him, do not even try and pretend like he didn’t see you. He did.” She took a deep breath and got to her feet. She turned around and checked one of her windows, making sure it was closed. Bolin wondered if it was a nervous habit, or if she just wanted to be sure they weren’t overhead. He had no idea what to say in response to what she’d told him.

                “If someone like that’s out there, shouldn’t we be warning people?” Bolin blurted. He immediately regretted it when Lin turned to look at him, but she wasn’t angry.

                “I see it’s already ‘we,’ then.” Bolin blushed, but Lin pretended not to notice. “If we informed the public it would only play into his hands. He thrives on mass panic. So far he hasn’t gone after any officers, but that’s what we’re afraid of. The only signs of him we _think_ we have are some murders in the criminal community, but just sorting out the cause of murder among people like that is nearly impossible.”

                Bolin frowned, thinking. Why would someone like that start killing criminals? Maybe he was trying to use them? Or maybe he just didn’t care. Bolin shuddered. Lin described this man committing _several_ acts of murder with relief, as though she’d expected something worse.

  1. Bolin thought for a second. This guy sounded bad. Worse than Amon, even; Amon, at least, had never directly murdered anyone. A lot of that _had_ happened around the Equalist movement, but the worst Amon would do was take your bending away. Now the city was overrun with criminals who didn’t seem to give a damn. In a way, this man Commissioner Lin was talking about was only one example of everything that was happening in Republic City. Bolin had known how bad things had been when he’d come down here. This didn’t change his decision.



                “Yes. I want to join the police.” Lin smiled a little sadly. “But, ma’am, if … if I can ask a question?”

                Lin looked a little surprised, but nodded her consent. She went about pulling on her jacket, tying it tight over her metal armour.

                “Why are you telling this to me? I mean, unless Mako’s being really private, he doesn’t know about this guy. Neither does Korra.”

                Lin paused for a moment, and then looked at him a little sadly.

                “I just lost one good police officer. Everyone who’s met you says you’re a good kid. Sometimes good kids don’t make it when monsters are running around at night. If you’re going to do this, I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

                Bolin wasn’t sure what to make of that. On one hand, she’d kind of implied he was a child; but on the other, she’d trusted him with something that, as far as Bolin knew, very few people were privy to.

                “Well, that’s that. Come to my office tomorrow at six in the morning. Sharp. I’ll be training you personally in metalbending.”

                “Really? Wow, thanks!”

                “I’ll _also_ be getting all that pro-bending crap out of your system,” Lin added bluntly, no trace of her earlier sadness present. “So don’t expect it to go easily. Sometimes it’s hard to get the hang of metalbending, but you’ll get there.”

                “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Bolin said, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected Lin Bei Fong to be the type to offer someone empty encouragement. He frankly had no idea if he’d be able to metalbend.

                “You found that chair uncomfortable, didn’t you?”

                “Uh, yeah.”

                “And the one in the lobby?” Lin didn’t wait for an answer. “There’s platinum in the seat of those chairs. There’s no earth in platinum. To someone who really has the aptitude to bend metal, it feels like you’re sitting on ice. You’ve got the stuff, kid. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

                “Um, of course!” Bolin got to his feet and opened the door for Lin. She looked deeply amused. “Uh, sorry. Manners.”

                “Not at all. Remember, Bolin, six in the morning. If you’re late, there’ll be hell to pay.”

                “Yes ma’am.”

                He followed Lin out of the office and closed the door behind him. Lin flicked her wrist, and Bolin heard the door’s lock click shut behind him. She hadn’t even thought about doing it, Bolin realized; that was how casually she could use metalbending, something most people only dreamed about. It was amazing. Lin left the office briskly, taking a pair of officers with her. They all had a rather grim air about them, as though they were going to a funeral—and that was exactly it, Bolin realized. They were going to Korrlac’s funeral.

                Not knowing what to do or say, Bolin left and went home.

xXx

                Asami had spent a long time at Ibushi’s lair, as she was starting to refer to it in her head. It had a fully equipped workshop, plenty of raw materials to use, and best of all was far away from prying eyes. Ibushi didn’t seem to mind her using his equipment. On the contrary, he was absolutely delighted. He kept to his own corner of the workshop, working on a ‘surprise’ for her. Asami couldn’t help but wonder what it was. When she had told him about what she wanted to do, he hadn’t really approved or disapproved. He’d just said that he might as well help.

                Asami had found a useful belt that had several slots, onto which a number of different containers and devices could be mounted. It was one of Ibushi’s old inventions that he had nearly forgotten about, made of the same material as the armour. She’d outfitted it to receive the different bolt cartridges for the wrist-mounted crossbows, as well as a few other attachments. Her favourites were the throwing knives she herself had fabricated; it had taken her ages, but she’d successfully found a way to keep them aerodynamic while giving them little bat-wings on the hilt and a pair of bat’s ears on the handle. The tail of the bat was elongated into the blade.  She knew that the last Fire Lady, Mai, had used similar knives to great effect in the Fire Nation war. She clipped several of the finished knives onto an attachment and slotted it into place on the belt. She held it up and examined it.

                _Not exactly a fashion accessory_ , Asami thought with a smile, _But it’s got style_. She had briefly entertained the notion of inscribing a bat on the front of the belt before dismissing it as gaudy. She wiped some sweat off her brow and heard the telltale sound of Ibushi’s cane approaching. _Step, thump, step, thump, step, thump._ He wasn’t going to be sneaking up on anyone anytime soon. He examined Asami’s creations critically.

                “You’ve got a fair deal of your father’s talent,” Ibushi commented, with the idle tones of a master trying not to sound unkind to a new student. “Now come this way with me. I’m finally ready to show you what I’ve been working on.”

                She followed him to his section of the lair’s workshop, beyond a miniature maze of stacked crates.  They came out to a large, open room, with a long workbench on one end. There were several miscellaneous machines and tools around the room, meticulously put away. On the bench there was a dark mask, that looked almost like a—

                “Helmet. To keep what sense you do have in your skull intact,” Ibushi said, smiling pleasantly. He picked it up and handed it to her. It was a dark, hard helmet that was halfway a mask, with an open jaw, and defined features that somehow seemed to be scowling. Ibushi’s chi-goggles were in place in the eyes, seeming natural on that foreboding face. On the top there were two long, pointed ears, like emblematic versions of a bat’s. Asami laughed.

                ”And here I was worried about being gaudy.”

                “Pull it on. It should fit you perfectly.” Asami looked at him a little dubiously, and he smiled. “I’ve got a knack for judging measurements.”

                She pulled on the helmet and was momentarily disoriented by the blue tint that the goggles applied to her vision. She couldn’t help but feel a little foolish, but the helmet was made of a similar material as the armour had been, though it was lighter. Not only that, her hearing seemed sharper somehow. She could make out the sounds of small mice scurrying around some crates, could almost hear the wind….

                “That’s what the ears are for. You’ve developed a sound amplifier.” Ibushi gave a little ceremonial bow. Asami frowned. “But what about loud noises? Wouldn’t this amplify loud noises as well?”

                “No, actually, it’ll filter out any noises that are too loud and reduce them so that they can’t harm your ears. An explosion, for example. There’s also some light padding that should absorb shocks, so that same hypothetical explosion probably won’t give you a concussion. This dial should fit nicely into one of your gloves.” He handed her a small black remote, the size of a thumb joint. “Using it you can adjust the ears to be more sensitive, or less. Hit this switch and it’ll snap to a neutral level. There’s also a dial to scan radio frequencies on the back.”

                “How did you manage this?” Asami adjusted the control a couple times as she spoke, hearing her own voice rise and fall depending on the way she moved the dial. When she flipped the back switch she heard radio static, then, as she adjusted it, an animated radio show intended for children. She switched it off.

                “Truth be told I’ve had the idea for seven years. Just had no way to try it out.” Asami took off the helmet and set it down on the workbench. “I can start combining all these things to make the suit you wanted, if you like. I’ve also had the cape refitted to your design—though I say again it’s foolish. You can’t do a vertical drop with a cape like that, only a glide. You’ll need to use the grapple hook to slow your descent in an emergency.”

                “It’s not about efficiency,” Asami murmured, almost to herself. “It’s about sending a message. Making a symbol.”

                “A rather peculiar symbol, I must say.” Ibushi started walking towards the exit, and Asami followed him. She knew the way out by now, but she enjoyed the company of the shrewd, kind, sharp old man. “What inspired you to choose a bat? I’m scarcely convinced such a creature even exists.”

                “They do,” Asami said with conviction. “They’re creatures that dwell in the darkness, but they’re not cruel, or violent. Just not well known. When I was young … well, you’ll think I’m foolish, but I’m convinced a bat spirit saved me when I was lost.”

                “I don’t think that’s foolish at all,” Ibushi murmured. He stopped walking rather abruptly and stared at her. “I helped you because I know there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this. Certainly, you’ve been doing it already.”

                Asami sighed. She’d been expecting this for some time now.

                “Ibushi, there’s nothing you can say—”

                “I know. But I’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory if I didn’t try.” Ibushi’s eyes were hard as stone, though they weren’t unkind.

                “My mother’s memory,” Asami repeated bitterly. She hated the way she couldn’t let go of that anger inside her, the way she couldn’t just move on. She’d always confronted things head-on, but now, faced with the enormity of her father’s monstrosity, of the terrible way that her father had warped the memory of her mother….

                “Your mother loved you, Asami. She only wanted the best for you. Now, I know that you’ll be doing this with my help or without it. I’m giving you all these things because I think you deserve them, and that you can use them the right way. I think that you’re the one who will show the rest of the world that non-benders can be just as extraordinary as the Avatar.” Asami blinked, unsure of what to say. She’d been expecting a lecture about getting herself hurt. She hadn’t been expecting _that_.

                “I’m sensing a ‘but,’” she said, and Ibushi smiled in spite of himself.

                “ _But_ , this can’t be all that you have. In the short time I’ve known you, I haven’t seen you with anyone of your own age, except for when your friend visited. You need to surround yourself with people who will support you, Asami. I’m just an old man. You need friends, companions—”

                “I had some.” She started to walk away, but thought better of it. She wasn’t a child to run away from an argument.

                “Find them again,” Ibushi suggested. “A lot of this is going to be done in secret. I accept the reality of that. But a life built on secrets isn’t really a life. You are an extraordinary young woman. That much was obvious the day I met you.” He sighed, and started walking towards the elevator again. “It would be a shame if you didn’t have a chance to share that with someone. I’m not saying that you are your father. But no one can devote themselves to one idea before it starts to eat away at their soul.”

                Asami didn’t say anything as they left to return home. Her mansion was empty, she realized. She missed Mako; she didn’t really miss their relationship, but she did miss his company. She missed Bolin’s exuberance, his love for life, his uncompromising good nature. She missed Korra, too, even if she thought the Avatar could think a bit more about other peoples’ feelings before she acted. She just wished she and Mako would stop avoiding her. It made her feel like she had some sort of terrible contagion. She hated that feeling. More than anything, she hated that there wasn’t really anything she could do about it.

She caught up to Ibushi and waited for the now-familiar elevator back to the surface. She tried not to think about her father, about how he’d turned the memory of her mother into something so poisoned by hate. She swore that she would do better. She wouldn’t be led by her demons.

                _I’ll use them as weapons._

xXx

                The woman named Ms. Breeze was sitting at the head of a long table in an old warehouse in a part of the city avoided by the police. There had never been a city riper for new rule, she thought, in the wake of Amon’s rebellion. The council and the police liked to pretend they were in charge, but she knew that the mob ran this town. She’d grown up thinking she couldn’t bend, sculpting her body as her only means to protect herself. The cops might’ve had that airship and their fancy metal suits, but it didn’t mean anything when a firebender chased you down an alley with his flames. She’d only recently discovered her talents, when her husband—a man with a voice and jaw like stone—had noticed that the air always smelled nice around her. At first she’d just thought it was foolishness. Jing always was a romantic old fool, but he’d been right. She’d been affecting the air currents around her.

                At the time, with Amon’s thugs running about, she’d thought it was a good idea to hide her abilities and develop them in secret. Now, she could command power that every major criminal in the city had to respect. Some of them were old, some new. Some, like Lightning Bolt Zolt, were only holding onto a shadow of what they once were. Without bending, Zolt could scarcely keep control over a single street corner. While everyone else had only brought one or two men with them, Zolt had practically brought an entire brigade; no doubt, without his bending, he was feeling a little paranoid.

                That did nothing to keep him quiet, though.

                “I’m telling you, the time to strike is now!” He insisted, pounding his fist on the table and knocking over his wine. He didn’t seem to notice, which probably had something to do with the fact that it was his fifth cup. “The police are weak! Their numbers have gone down ever since Amon, and those new recruits are greener than a swampbender’s ass!”

                “Yes, and I’m sure General Iroh is thinking much the same thing,” drawled a firebender named Eiko, a woman famous for her beauty. What mattered mostly to Breeze was that she was a phenomenal bender, and had a sharp mind. “The United Forces boats have grown rather comfortable in Republic City’s bay, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

                “They’ll never dare set foot in the city. It’d be an act of bloody war,” Zolt insisted. Eiko rolled her eyes.

                “Tell me, pray tell, what it was that they were doing when Amon struck? Ensuring everyone observed the formal rules of combat? That’s an _army_ on our shores, you puffed up old idiot. An army that can and will crush you like a bug.”

                Zolt started to say something, but Breeze cut him off. She was pleased that he didn’t dare interrupt her.

                “Eiko is correct. If we draw that much attention to ourselves, it’s suicide. What we can do is expand. Slowly. Carefully. In a few months we can have this city in a vice grip. So what if the police still muck about in our business? Half of them are still shaking like mice over having their bending taken away. I called you all here so we can co-ordinate. If we play this right, we can have more than we ever have before. If we do it wrong we can all wind up as stains on United Forces swords.” She kind of wished her voice had a more ephemeral quality, but she’d always been curt and direct. It was a consequence of growing up poor; everything about her was. She was strong as an ox, which had saved her life; she had short hair, which you couldn’t pull at in a fight. Her husband behind her, Jing, was much the same way. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he was madly in love with her. He was convinced she was the most brilliant person in the world.

                He was right, of course. He wasn’t classically intelligent, but the man had astonishing intuition. That, and he could bend earth better than most cops. She was convinced that he’d be able to metalbend if the cops weren’t so damn secretive about their special power.

                “We all agree, Breeze,” another man said, some minor water bender who had a bit of control over some ghetto, “But it’s one thing for us to agree on something, and another to get street-level co-operation. How am I supposed to tell my Cactus Juice dealers to work with Eiko’s thugs? No disrespect meant,” The man said with a short bow. Eiko laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

                “None taken. They _are_ thugs. The best around. And you sound afraid, old man. You’ve got your little piece of the world and that’s enough. Whereas Zolt wants the whole damn thing. The trick is to take what we can, where we can. And right now there’s plenty for the taking.” She reached onto the table and bit into an apple. “With Ms. Breeze here, and my muscle, we can keep the cops terrified. If the police are living in fear, then the city’s ours. It’s that simple.”

                “You have a rare gift for insight, young lady.” Everyone turned to look at the entrance to the building. A man in a trench coat was walking towards them, with a mane of wild black hair. He was smiling.

                “What the hell happened to the guards I posted?” Breeze demanded, getting to her feet. Behind her, Jing had assumed a fighting stance. The crime lords around the table had done the same, and each one of Zolt’s thugs looked ready to kill somebody. Zolt started shouting orders.

                “They’re dead, actually,” the man said, continuing to walk towards them. If he saw the miniature army of brutally powerful benders in front of him, he didn’t notice. “Kept going on about how this was a private get-together, or something. And here I thought we could all be such good friends!”

                He spread his arms, and opened his coat as he did it. Hanging from the inside of his coat were several pieces of obsidian, dangling on threads. He grinned, the scars on his face warping with twisted glee.

                “Though I’m often wrong.” The shards of obsidian flew from his coat faster than the eye could see, embedding themselves in the necks of everyone present. The only two left standing were Ms. Breeze and her husband. She barely had time to register her shock before a slab of stone pressed Jing into the wall.

                “Obsidian,” Breeze whispered, her eyes growing wide with horror. She’d heard stories of this man. “It’s you. The Black Tiger.”

                “Please, you’ll make me blush,” the man said, picking up the apple from Eiko’s dead hand. He took a bite and smiled. “Just call me Freedom.”

                “Freedom,” Breeze repeated without enthusiasm. She’d met cactus juiceheads who were saner. He was still walking towards her. She wanted to send a blast of air at him, but something about the way he moved dissuaded her. He walked with unbelievable ease, as though he’d never even known the definition of doubt. He started tossing the half-eaten apple up and down in his hand.

                “So, can you do that trick of yours under duress?”

                “What? Yes, if I’ve had time to prepare. But with a building like this I’d need at least five minutes.” She figured it’d be idiocy to lie to him. He’d know. She somehow knew that he’d know. And there was Jing to think of; that wooden slab would crush his windpipe if this “Freedom” so much as twitched.

                “Good. You love this man, don’t you?” He walked past her and touched Jing’s face, caressing his cheek like a lover. Jing grimaced, and Freedom only smiled. “It’ll be over soon, don’t you worry,” he promised, his voice gentle. “And you two crazy lovebirds will be king and queen of the whole damn roost!” He turned around and winked at Breeze, grinning like a child at a festival. “What’d’you think of that?”

                “I think that’s awfully generous,” Ms. Breeze managed to say.

                “It certainly is, isn’t it?” The man who called himself Freedom abruptly turned around and started walking to the center of the large, empty warehouse. “You should probably start getting ready now.” Ms. Breeze blinked, and started calling on her power, directing the air currents with her arms. Freedom watched lazily and started humming a tune, harsh and sinister despite being based on a children’s song. “For your sake, I certainly hope the claims about you are true,” Freedom confided, before a hole started to open in the ground beneath him. He idly waved a hand, and Breeze could feel rumbling beneath her feet. “The Police Commissioner is coming!”

                “What? Commissioner Bei Fong? Is that an _earthquake?_ ” Breeze asked, her eyes wide even as she commanded the air to start leaving this place, even as she made a few pockets of safety around her and Jing.

                “Sure is!”

                Freedom vanished into the hole, and then the slab of earth crushed Jing’s neck.

                “NO!”

                The earthquake grew worse, radiating out from where Freedom had vanished. The earth sealed itself back up as it shook. Ms. Breeze wept, but she continued going about her work, bending with silent fury. She clawed at the air like she was trying to tear out its throat. She pulled the air towards her as though she wanted to deprive the world of it, ripping it from the lungs of the earth.

xXx

                The funeral had been hard on all of them. Lin knew her officers were thinking that it could have been them who had died, and that they felt guilty for having such thoughts. Those of them with families couldn’t help but think of their own when they saw Korrlac’s wife and daughter. Maiko wept quietly, not able to look at anyone or say anything; her daughter was defiant and angry. Halfway through the ceremony Ky Lee had stolen away. Lin suspected she had gone to cry.

                It had been too much. Lin blamed herself. How could she not? Korrlac hadn’t really known what was down there, the monster chained in that cell….

                The mystery of _how_ he had escaped did not matter to her, now. All that mattered was that he had destroyed another family. Just like the last time, Lin had failed to stop him before it was too late.

                _No more_ , she promised herself as the funeral ended. She would find him, she would hunt him down, and she would end him forever. Mercy—that had been Avatar Aang’s word for letting that crazed madman live—had cost a good family everything.

                Lin sat alone in the back seat, turning to the place she always did when there was nowhere else to turn: her bending. She felt her metal armour next to her skin, felt the metal in the car. As the wheels turned over the road she felt the earth there too, depressing as the vehicle’s bulk passed over it for a fraction of a second. She could almost feel the earth rumbling its displeasure, and she thought for a moment that it, too, had to be feeling outraged for Korrlac’s death.

                It took her a moment to realize that she was _not_ imagining the earth rumbling. It was shaking, still far too gently for a normal person to detect, but for the daughter of Toph Bei Fong, who had spent years forcing herself to learn to see as her mother did, she could see the earthquake as plain as a blind man could feel the rain on his face. There was only one problem.

                There had never been any earthquakes in Republic City. She traced the waves back to their source, and she knew that a quake could not have started there. Not without help.

                _It’s him!_

                “Jiaowei, Feng, I need you to head to Old Earthtown _now!_ ” Lin snapped, startling them both. “Whatever you do _avoid the warehouse on Avenue X_. Bring in a squad and start an evac. Establish a perimeter; _no one_ enters. Step on it!”

                “Yes ma’am!” Jiaowei blurted, slamming on the gas pedal and blaring his siren. Feng turned around to say something, but Lin ignored him, forcing open the car door and leaping out. She flung out with her arm and a metal cable shot out, slamming into a nearby building. She pulled herself forward and flung out another arm, whipping over the city’s streets. She could feel her muscles straining, but she didn’t stop, pushing herself faster. She didn’t know _why_ that madman had revealed himself now, but she had to find him before he vanished again.

                She finally came upon the warehouse, landing in front of it in an explosion of earth. She felt the earth shaking violently beneath her feet now, but she pushed heedlessly through the door.

                The warehouse was filled with corpses and a single living woman. Lin wanted to scream in frustration, but first she scanned the bodies quickly, making sure he wasn’t among them. She wouldn’t put it past the bastard to pretend to be dead. They were scattered around a long table at one head of the open warehouse, while the one living woman—who was fiercely waving her arms in a style Lin didn’t recognize—was standing at the head of the table, opposite Lin.

                For a moment, Lin was overwhelmed by rage and wanted to scream. This was _his_ doing. A torrential blast of wind caught her by surprise and knocked her off the feet, slamming her against the violently roiling earth. Lin forced herself back to her feet and leaped forward, surging forward on an earthen tide, demolishing the table between them. She slammed into the woman and aimed a punch at her face, only to find that the woman’s fist had caught Lin in the stomach with stunning speed. A moment too late she realized that this woman—Ms. Breeze, she registered dully—was twice Lin’s size and brutally strong.  She was knocked back by a gust of wind and slammed hard against the earth, the breath knocked out of her.

                In that moment she pressed her hand to the ground and reached out with her senses, desperately trying to find him. She could feel the cruel brilliance of his bending tunneling through the earth. He was getting away. The realization hit her like a cold wave, taking her breath away—until she realized she truly _couldn’t_ breathe. She clutched at her throat in surprise, resisting the urge to scream.

                _He planned this. He planned this!_

She struggled back up, flinging out her metal cables at Ms. Breeze, using what little strength she had left. She had to stop her, had to find him, she had to … she had to ….

                She fell to the floor, consciousness slipping away, old ghosts stabbing at her like knives. She could swear she could hear him laughing, his voice as clear and cruel as the wind ….

xXx

                An eagle soared over Republic City, idly looking down at the strange spires and square little buildings below. There was no place for these things in her world; she could not understand them and did not like their smell. But she wasn’t such a fool of an eagle that she would not notice a seething mass of things that might kill her.

                She saw the ground shaking with its sharp eyes, saw people running, heard their voices growing louder. Her attention focused, knowing that where humans made that noise, all creatures suffered. She flew higher and kept her eye to the city beneath her, watching the strange human ground twist and crack. Cracks spread from one spot of the city like a spider’s web, expanding slowly at first, then rapidly. At once the great city shuddered, and its streets collapsed as though it were letting out a sigh of air, foul and twisted by decades of neglect. The eagle watched as tunnels, long hidden, were revealed, as men chained for years clambered out of broken cells.

                The eagle saw what she needed to and turned her wings, leaving that city behind. There was nothing there for her. It was an aberration, a scar on the world; and where hungry predators were unleashed on helpless prey, only death could follow.


	4. Descend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fully armed and equipped, Asami takes on Mrs. Breeze in a desperate attempt to free Commissioner Lin.

                Republic City had gone insane.

                Bolin, like everyone else in the city, had been in a panic when the earthquake had shaken the streets, making buildings tremble and knocking over structures thought to be indestructible. When the streets had split _open,_ unleashing a deluge of furious prisoners, he had been absolutely stunned. The cops had done their best trying to contain things, but as they had gone about their work, a second, devastating piece of news spread through the City like a poison: Commissioner Lin was gone. Republic City was effectively under martial law, as families confined themselves to their homes and criminals ran rampant. Korra had invited Mako and Bolin to Air Temple Island, knowing that their apartment wasn’t safe; Bolin had been grateful, but he couldn’t help but notice that Asami had been left out _again._ He didn’t say anything about it—he didn’t know _how_ to bring it up with them—but he didn’t like leaving her out of things. Sure, she had her mansion, but mansions weren’t impregnable.

                _She should be with her friends,_ Bolin decided. It was terrible to go through something like this alone. So he’d snuck off the island, quietly stealing away on a boat when the guards were distracted, leaving a note to explain what he’d done. He didn’t plan to be around long, he just wanted to make sure Asami was okay. When he was done at Asami’s place, he was going to try to figure out what was going on with the active police and help them. He wasn’t a real member yet—not even as much as Mako, if he was honest—but he felt responsible. Commissioner Lin had told _him_ about the Black Tiger. She’d trusted him.

                He crept through the city, dodging through alleys, keeping his eyes and ears open as though he were in a pro-bending match. He had to watch everyone, be aware of everything, or he’d lose. Well, now, with so many murderers on the loose, he might get killed instead, and he definitely did not want that to happen.

                He finally reached to Asami’s mansion, knocking on the front door somewhat nervously. The mansion didn’t seem like it had been looted, like some places Bolin had seen. That was encouraging. After a while, Asami came to the door, looking a little flustered. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise when she saw him.

                “Bolin! What are you doing out here?”

                “Well, uh, I thought I’d come see you! I was just thinking that there’s all this mess in the city and you’re here alone—” Bolin stopped rambling, feeling a little foolish. Asami sighed and smiled at him, clearly not sure what to make of him.

                “I’m not alone, Bolin. The staff and Ibushi are here. It’s _you_ who I’m worried about; the City’s dangerous right now.”

                Bolin shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”

                “So can I, but here you are.” Asami seemed to have forgotten her earlier panic. Bolin grinned sheepishly.

                “Well, we’re buddies! We’re supposed to look out for each other! I mean, me, Korra, and Mako are all safe on Air Temple Island—”

                “You’re _here,_ Bolin,” Asami pointed out.

                “Oh. Uh, right. But you know what I mean! I just thought maybe you’d like to come join us or something—”

                “That’s sweet, Bolin, but I’ve really got, um, business to attend to.” Asami suddenly sounded kind of nervous. Bolin felt like an idiot when he realized a moment later that she was _bound_ to be uncomfortable being around Korra and Mako.

                _Very smooth, Bolin_.

                “Right. Um, well, I should probably head back to the Island, then.” He had no such plans, of course. Asami seemed relieved.

                “All right Bolin. You be careful out there, okay? The streets aren’t safe right now.” Asami’s eyes were dark, and somewhat far off. He wondered what that could mean.

                “Sure thing! Good luck with your business stuff!”

                “Thanks, Bolin,” Asami said, grimacing a little. “Don’t get yourself hurt.”

                Bolin grinned cheerfully and waved as he walked away.

                “Wouldn’t dream of it!”

                Asami lingered in the doorway for a moment, a strange, sad look on her face, before she turned back inside, closing the door behind her. Bolin was glad she was going to stay safe. Republic City was turning on itself, and the fight to get it back wouldn’t be easy.

                But he had to try. Lin had trusted him yesterday. He was going to prove that she had been right to.

xXx

                Asami watched Bolin leave and sighed in relief. That had been far too close. If Bolin had asked to come inside, well … that would have been awkward. She had to get out to Ibushi’s lair five minutes ago. Commissioner Lin was being held be a criminal warlord and Republic City was rapidly approaching its breaking point. The United Forces army that was perched on their shores was going to _have_ to step in soon, and then the City would be truly lost. No one would ever believe the City could protect itself if the army had to keep stepping in every couple months. Not only that, it’d be open warfare in the streets, _again_. Republic City had barely survived that once, and Amon’s coup had been, for all its drama, mercifully brief.

                She hurried up the stairs of her mansion to Ibushi’s quarters, where he was working on something in a little makeshift workshop she’d set up for him. It didn’t compare to the one in his warehouse, but he didn’t want them to be seen constantly coming and going from there.

                When she knocked on his door, he answered it almost immediately, leaning heavily on his cane. He’d attached a bronze hawk’s head to the head of it now. Asami had to wonder if it was a family sigil—which meant he came from money—or a personal one. She supposed she could’ve checked his history to find out, but such a thing seemed indecent for someone who’d already done so much for her.

                “I’ve got one last thing for you,” he said brusquely, producing a small, black device about the size of a thumbnail. “This will slot into a spot on the underside of your cowl. I wasn’t sure I could finish it in time, but this should be handy.”

                “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what it is?” Asami asked dryly. Ibushi grinned and handed it to her.

                “It’s a voice modifier. With it resting against your throat it should make your voice a little deeper and introduce a sort of harsh resonance. It’ll make it nearly impossible for anyone to recognize your voice.”

                Asami raised her eyebrows, pressing it to her throat experimentally.

                “Let’s see—woah.” She could _almost_ recognize the sound of her own voice, but what came out sounded strange, and dark. She moved the device away and slipped it into a pocket. “Thanks. That should come in handy, especially if the Avatar shows up.”

                “Do you expect her to?” Asami started walking down the stairs again, slowing her pace so that Ibushi could follow.

                “I know her. She won’t be able to resist, not if she figures out where Breeze is holding Commissioner Lin, and that’s not exactly hard to figure out. Breeze has the entire district around her covered in her men. She’s desperate, which means she’s dangerous. Something must have her spooked … maybe it has to do with Commissioner Lin, but I don’t know. My gut tells me it’s something else.” Asami frowned in thought and opened the door for Ibushi, letting him pass before her.

                “You’re quite the detective, aren’t you? Though I’m not so sure I believe all these rumours about Breeze.” Ibushi climbed into the passenger seat while Asami settled into the driver’s. She started them down the road as fast as she dared, feeling grateful that Ibushi’s lair was far away from most of the collapsed roads.

                “If half of them are true, I can’t afford to take any of them lightly,” Asami said simply. “I can protect myself, but Breeze is supposed to be a vicious fighter, and her troops won’t be pushovers, either. What’s worse, if she _is_ desperate, she might kill Commissioner Lin if she feels trapped. If Korra does try to solve this herself, she’s bound to make a mess.”

                “And that we don’t want.”

                “Indeed,” Asami said under her breath, speeding towards Ibushi’s lair, where her suit, and her destiny, was waiting for her.

xXx

                Bolin was gone.

                Mako had combed over the entire damn island—dodging the guards’ pointed questions all the while—and he _still_ hadn’t found him. The possibility that he’d left the island was almost unthinkable, but it looked like it was the only one left. He returned to Korra’s room and found her waiting for him. She’d been looking too, but she must’ve made better time than he did. She was pacing around the room, her arms crossed and her face set in that defiant jut that Mako knew predicted rash decisions.

                “We’ve got to go after him,” she said, glaring at him, as though daring him to defy her. He wasn’t about to.

                “You’re right. We’ve just got to find a way to sneak off the island,” Mako frowned, thinking of all the guards. Just how had Bolin managed to slip past them? Their patrol routes left almost nowhere on the island unwatched, and they were being far more vigilant than usual. Bolin was clearly more devious than Mako had ever suspected.

                “Uh, hello.” Korra smirked and pointed at her chest. “ _Avatar_. I can totally get us off the island. Piece of cake!”

                “Can you do that _without_ sending half the island into a panic attack?” Mako asked with a frown. “I don’t want Bolin getting into trouble with Tenzin. _I_ don’t want to get into trouble with Tenzin, either.”

                Korra shrugged and waved a hand dismissively.

                “It’ll be fine, you worry too much. I’m not gonna blow a hole in the wall. We’ll airbend over the guards and then dive under the water the rest of the way. Easy.”

                “And guards who watched Meelo grow up won’t think to look over their heads?”

                “Oh. Um. Right. Hang on.” Korra pursed her lips and tapped a finger to her nose, clearly in deep thought. Mako rolled his eyes and she stuck her tongue out at him. “I don’t hear you coming up with any suggestions!”

                “Yeah, yeah … how did Bolin get away without being noticed in the first place? I can’t think of anything!”

                “I don’t suppose …” Korra trailed off. “Wait. Hang on.”

                Korra jumped out the window. Sighing and feeling grateful that they were on the ground floor, Mako poked his head out the window to see Korra lying chest down in the dirt, her ear pressed to the ground. She knocked on the ground with her knuckle, then pressed her palm flat against it.

                “He made an earth tunnel!” Korra declared, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “I had no idea he could do that! That’s _really_ advanced earth bending stuff!”

                “And he must have managed to do it silently, and cleanly,” Mako murmured. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for his little brother. Bolin really _had_ been practising in the past few months. “Can you do that?”

                “I think I could, but not quietly. I _can_ get us into Bolin’s tunnel, though. Come on!”

                “Right. I heard him talking to some of the guards earlier. Apparently Old Earthtown is a mess, filled with crooks working for Ms. Breeze—” Korra snorted at the criminal’s nickname “—which means that Commissioner Lin’s probably there. That’s where Bolin will be.”

                “Why do you say that?” Korra asked, slowly opening a hole in the earth. Her movements were careful and controlled, much slower than her usual earthbending. Her arms pulled gently at the air and the earth moved with her. It was lovely to watch.

                “He’ll think it’s his responsibility. Bolin would always get these ideas that he has to take care of something all of a sudden. Like when we needed that money.”

                “Oh. Right.” Korra looked up at him, frowning slightly. “Hey, it’s gonna be all right, okay? We’re gonna find him before he gets himself hurt.” She lowered herself into the hole and held out her hand for Mako to take. Mako sighed and took it, gingerly following Korra into the tunnel. It was cramped enough that they had to crouch, but it was impressively uniform. Mako idly wondered where Bolin had put all the earth he’d displaced.

                “All right, let’s go.”

xXx

                The man who called himself Freedom walked over the streets for the first time in years, breathing fresh air. He was wearing metalbending armour; much to his own amusement, he hadn’t even killed the cop he’d taken it from. The man had already been dead.

                With the city in chaos and the only person who could recognize him trapped in Breeze’s cage, he was free to more or less do as he pleased. Everyone was too scared to look too closely at someone in a metalbender’s uniform. He’d been following one man for a while. He was a low-level clerk who worked with the City Council, and was in charge of keeping track of the salaries given to the families of deceased officers. Turning a corner, the man ducked into a small apartment. Freedom waited for a moment, then walked up and knocked on the door. The short, Water Tribe man greeted him with understandable suspicion. Freedom smiled pleasantly.

                “Good afternoon. The office sent me, may I come in?”

                “Oh, of course, of course,” the man said, hurrying to invite Freedom inside. Freedom smiled and examined the apartment. It was rather well furnished, though he knew that this man couldn’t afford that. He was either in considerable debt, or he was dipping into the money meant for metalbenders. Freedom didn’t care which. “You are?”

                “Officer Lao,” Freedom said simply. “You’re in charge of the fund for deceased police officers, yes?”

                “Um, well, I really just sort of oversee it—”

                “Meaning?” Freedom raised an eyebrow. He was no longer smiling.

                “Well, I don’t handle any money. I just check expenses of the families, ensure everything is going okay. I make regular reports, though I’m not sure anyone actually reads them.” The man trailed off bitterly, with the air of someone voicing an oft-repeated complaint.

                “Thank you,” Freedom said, before he made a steel spike in the gauntlet of his armour. The clerk’s eyes went wide in slow comprehension before Freedom stabbed him in the throat. He flicked the blood off and retracted the blade, walking over to the clerk’s desk. “Let’s see,” he muttered to himself, thumbing through files. “Sung, Fong … ah, here we are, Inaq.” He waved the piece of paper at the clerk’s corpse. “Thank you. Would’ve been difficult, finding them myself.”

                He looked at the document for a moment, his face as blank as it always was when he was alone. Korrlac Inaq, married to a woman named Maiko, with a daughter named Ky Lee. Ky Lee was a keen talent with a blade, and had won several medals. He idly wondered what she’d be like.

                He supposed he’d find out in person.

xXx

                Cutting through the night in Ibushi’s armour, leaping across the close-set rooftops of Republic City, Asami felt at peace.  Ibushi’s goggles let her see people through walls, his light armour let her run without worrying about injury, and the grappling arrow allowed her to ascend to ridiculous heights. Behind the fearsome scowl of her mask, she felt almost invincible. Despite that almost childlike sensation of power, though, she was mostly running on foot. It would be too easy for her to be seen if she used the hook.

                _And Breeze can’t know I’m coming_.

                Breeze was definitely holed up in Old Earthtown, and if Asami’s guess was right, she was probably using the last warehouse that was still standing after the earthquake. Old Earthtown was a mess of squat, flat houses in a very rough approximation of Earth Kingdom style. A few taller buildings—apartment complexes, businesses, factories—shot up out of the mess in a haphazard pattern, though they were denser near the warehouses. That would work in her favour. She pulled an arrow out of her belt and scanned the area, then fired it into a tall building when she was satisfied there was no one around. That wasn’t surprising; even on streets where there wasn’t a crook in sight, civilians were still staying out of the neighborhood.

                She swung to the top of a tall apartment building, looking out at the streets below. With her goggles, she could see everything, and there was a lot to see. The streets were cracked and caved in, revealing the same tunnels she’d retrieved Ibushi from just a couple weeks ago. At first glance, it seemed like the streets were deserted and all the houses were empty, but as she looked closer, she saw the faint chi lines of people in buildings, guarding doors, walking down the streets. After a while she noticed regular patrols.

                _Breeze has this place locked down_ , Asami realized with some apprehension, and a slight twinge of begrudging respect. She looked over the streets once more, looking for something of interest, or some way she could sneak by, when she saw a cluster of chi lines off in the distance, converging on the single outline of one person. The one person had their arms raised, in a bending position, and the others were all approaching slowly. Asami couldn’t see them—there was a couple blocks’ worth of houses in her way—but she could draw conclusions quickly enough. Whoever that one person was, they were in trouble. And they might have information.

                _Time to go_. She walked to the edge of the building, looking down for a moment and taking a breath. It’d be a hell of a fall if Ibushi’s cape didn’t pull through.

                _Always move forward._

                Asami leapt from the roof and spread her wings, gliding on the night like death itself.

xXx

                _Oh man, this is bad_ , Bolin thought, backing into a collapsed building at the end of an alley. There were four guys walking towards him, their own arms ready in a bending position. Bolin bounced onto the balls of his feet. _Remember, keep it light and quick._

                But that was pro-bending, he realized with stomach-churning dread. This wasn’t pro-bending. This was _real_. He lowered himself into the wide stance he’d seen Korra use, and raised his arms.

                “All right, let’s see what you’ve got,” Bolin muttered. Could he take four at once? Sure, he could take four at once. Maybe. His palms grew sweaty.

                “More than enough to handle you, kid,” a rough man said, advancing with a sneer. A flame burst into being in his hand. Bolin moved to surprise him with an earth wedge—

                And then he was completely distracted by a huge black thing soaring overhead.

                “What in the hell—?” The rough man stared the huge thing circled down towards them, then tucked in its wings and plummeted down towards them, landing in between Bolin and the four criminals. It looked like a person, except they were covered in black armour, had a night-black cape, and they were wearing a very unfriendly, horned mask. It was absolutely terrifying. In a moment of absurd clarity, he realized that the armoured figure was a tall woman.

                “What are you waiting for, light her up!” Three of the benders shot spears of flame at the masked woman, who disappeared in a swirl of flame. Bolin felt his heart drop as the flames circled the black figure, but as they died and faded, he saw only a sheer black mass, apparently unburnt, bent over and swathed in a black cloak. For a long time, the figure didn’t move, the cloak wrapped around her, splayed out like a spider’s web.

                Then, _something_ shot out of her cloak in a blur, aimed at one of the criminals. He tried to duck, but instead of impaling him it _exploded_ in a white powder that blinded Bolin and made his ears ring. He backed away nervously and shook his head, clearing his eyes in time to see the black figure rising. She stared at the benders for a moment, before one of them raised a hand caked in fine white powder. He tried to shoot fire at her.

                It didn’t work.

                “My turn.” She moved with stunning speed, diving in beneath one criminal’s outstretched hand and grabbing it as she spun around, wrenching his body over her shoulder. Bolin heard a terrible _snapping_ sound, even as she moved to another man and landed a vicious strike into his solar plexus. The other two benders tried to attack her from behind, but Bolin stomped on the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked them off their feet. The masked woman turned to him, smirked, and calmly knocked their heads together. She methodically went about binding their hands with ties she produced from her belt.

                “Um, thanks,” Bolin said nervously. “Are you okay?”

                “I’m fine,” the woman muttered, getting to her feet. Her eyes were obscured by some sort of dark glass. The effect was unsettling. “You’re the Avatar’s friend, aren’t you?”

                “Huh? Oh, yeah, sort of. We’re teammates—”

                “Good. Do you know where she is?”

                “Right now? I guess she’s back at the island.”

                “Are you sure?” The way those black eyes stared at him was unnerving. He thought he’d been imagining it before, but the mask really _was_ scowling. She was tall, but the suit and the ears added height, and an otherworldly menace. The only part of her that wasn’t covered in black armour was her jawline, which somehow made her _more_ intimidating.

                “Well, it’s possible she left after I did,” Bolin said, rubbing the back of his head. The masked woman scowled and drew something like an arrow out of a compartment on her belt. She fitted it into a device on her left wrist and looked down the alley before turning back to Bolin.

                “If she’s here, could you find her?”

                “I think so. She’d probably use the tunnel I made.” Bolin tried not to sound like he was only working on half a guess.

                “Good. You need to find her and make sure she stays away from Breeze’s warehouse. The Avatar’s powerful, but she’s also rash. Ms. Breeze has the Commissioner locked up in there, and she’s nervous. If the Avatar provokes her, something might happen to Commissioner Lin, and we can’t let that happen. Here, take this.” She handed him a small radio. Contrary to what he’d been expecting, it was fairly plain and looked like it could’ve been bought in a store off the street. “When you find her, contact me on the radio frequency it’s dialed to. I need to be sure no one’s going to try and get into that warehouse.”

                Bolin didn’t know what to say. He only nodded, gulping self-consciously. He had come here with some half-baked notion of rescuing Commissioner Lin, but he hadn’t really given it any real thought. Lin had trusted him, and he’d let her down … but now this person who had just saved his _life_ was trusting him. He wouldn’t let _her_ down, as well.

                “You’ve got it,” Bolin said, before he realized that she’d gone. He blinked and went back the way he came, feeling a little left out. Well, maybe he wouldn’t be the big hero this time. Maybe he’d just do what was necessary. As long as Commissioner Lin got out okay, it would be worth it.

xXx

                Asami’s knees were killing her.

                _That was a little stupid_ , she thought to herself as she stalked over the rooftops towards Breeze’s warehouse. Ibushi _had_ warned her that a cape in the shape of bat’s wings wouldn’t really provide enough drag for a sudden drop, but it had been the only way to get to Bolin in time. When she had seen Bolin, her heart had stopped. Luckily she’d managed to compose herself.

                _Focus on the task at hand,_ she told herself. She came upon the last of the houses near the warehouse and stopped to get her bearings again. On an impulse, she started fiddling with the radio dial for the transponder in her helmet’s ears. She picked up a few dead frequencies, but then….

                _”boss says that no one gets in or out.”_

_“Are you serious? I’m not staying holed up in this box!”_

_“if you’re so zZZT –vinced that you can persuade her to change her mind, be my guest.”_

Asami flicked it off. Breeze was getting cagey, and her men could feel it. That could work in Asami’s favour. She looked at the warehouse more closely. Along the rear end, where there seemed to be a small office space; there were a number of windows looking in on the rooms. She could make out faint, distant chi lines in the building as well, moving slowly as men and women who were clearly bored paced about. Asami hooked another bolt into her grapple launcher and fired it, aiming it beneath a window. As she traveled she spread her cape, using the momentum of the grapple hook to propel her into the side of the building. She clung to the grapple hook with some difficulty, feeling the added weight of her suit and her equipment. She’d trained extensively in hand-to-hand combat, but out and out strength had never been her strong suit. She scanned the pitch-black room in front of her, found it empty, and burst through the window with a jarring crash.

                _They’d have to be deaf not to hear that_ , she thought, shaking herself free of the glass.  She looked around herself. She was in a slightly open office space with a few cubicles and a bathroom. Making a quick choice, she darted into one of the cubicles and sunk down to her knees. Sure enough, she saw three people approaching the room, fanning out to search. Two of them—a bulky man and a short, broad-shouldered woman—lit small fires in their hands.

                _So much for hiding in the dark,_ Asami thought. She felt a sudden spike of panic, realizing with dread that if she made a single misstep, everything could be lost. What if Breeze killed Lin at the slightest provocation? Even if she didn’t, what would she do if she found the daughter of a known traitor to the city in a ridiculous suit of armour, prowling about her warehouse?

                **_Move forward. Turn your fear into theirs._**

                Asami drew in a sharp breath, and then mentally cursed at herself. The woman with the fire walked towards her location, looking around curiously. Asami knew that she’d only have a few seconds before she was spotted. Remembering her knives at the last minute, she pulled two from her belt, flipped them between her fingers, and threw one after the other. The first whipped into the wrist of the woman approaching her, while the second clattered to the feet of the other firebender. The woman screamed in shock more than anything else, while the man gave a startled yell and picked up the knife.

                “What the hell?”

                Asami ignored him, moving out of her hiding spot to slam her armoured elbow into the jaw of the woman near her. She sagged like wet cement, and Asami ducked behind a desk. She looked through the cheap material of the desk to see the remaining men walking towards her, though they were slow going. One of them stopped.

                “Man, we should get out of here. Tell Breeze.”

                “Are you kidding? I’m not gonna be the guy to tell her bad news!”

                “Shit shit shit what the hell is going on?”

                **_Now they feel fear. Now they are blind in the dark._**

                _You got it, voice that I really hope is a spirit_ , Asami thought wryly. She took a breath, and then leapt over the desk she was hiding behind, her cape unfurling behind her. Both of the men were caught completely off-guard, which gave Asami a chance to sweep the legs out from beneath one of them. He fell hard to the floor and Asami caught the back of his skull, slamming his face into the ground. When she got up to face the other man—the one who wasn’t a firebender—he looked ready to wet himself.

                “Please, don’t—” Asami grabbed him by the throat.

                “Tell me where Breeze is keeping the Commissioner.”

                “In the main section of the warehouse, right in the middle! She’s got the Commissioner in a cage—”

                “Why’s she so exposed?”

                “That’s how her bending works; she needs the space to work with.” The man sounded slightly less nervous. Asami responded by headbutting him. He suddenly became dead weight in her hands, and she let him fall. She smiled. Ibushi would be pleased to know his helmet was working.

                She crept out of the room, and found herself in an open office with a wide window looking out at the empty warehouse. She could see places where crates and shelves had been shoved aside or stacked to form rudimentary chairs. There was plenty of breathing room, and some scaffolding was hanging from the building’s ceiling. Light was coming from a series of lamps hanging from the scaffolding, while the guards patrolled below, and in the center….

                _There she is_. Ms. Breeze was sitting in a chair in front of a large, metal box, staring into the contents. That had to be where Lin was. Asami looked around for a way to get out into the open area without breaking through another window, but couldn’t find anything. After a moment’s long deliberation, she realized no one was looking in her direction, and just walked through a door that led to a flight of stairs that went down to ground level. She almost smiled at the simplicity of it, before she launched another grapple arrow to the scaffolding overhead and swung up there. For a moment she wondered if anyone had seen a huge black cape trailing upwards, but apparently the guards were all bored, irritated, and none of them were doing a good job of looking up.

                _I need darkness_. They weren’t looking up, but if they did, it wouldn’t be hard to spot her, clinging to the beams overhead. There were about ten lights, and she knew she couldn’t short all of them … but that could work to her advantage. She slowly crept across the beams, thinking with some amusement that keeping her balance up here wasn’t that different from keeping a fast-moving car under control. You just had to be firm and steady. She got directly over one of the lights, in a far corner of the room well removed from Ms. Breeze. She reached down onto the wiring of the light and ripped out a pair of wires. The lamp immediately died, bathing the area in darkness; to her pleasant surprise, the closest light to her _also_ went dark. She supposed they must have been connected. A good quarter of the warehouse was dim, and in her corner it was all but pitch black.

                Breeze reacted quickly, sending two of her thugs to investigate. Asami readied herself for them, turning up the sensitivity on her helmet’s ears. She looked to the two guards walking slowly towards the dark. They were shuffling irritably, but neither was saying anything. They didn’t want to piss off their boss. She turned to Breeze and focused, barely making out a fragment of a conversation. She could hear Lin saying something from within her improvised cell.

                “…think you can kill him, you’re a fool.”

                “I caught you, didn’t I?” Breeze’s voice was curt and brutal, masking barely concealed rage. Asami wondered if she had a personal reason to hate Commissioner Lin. This sounded like something more than the professional hatred between cops and criminals.

                “You caught me because that’s what _he_ wanted to happen. He planned all this! I don’t know what he wants to happen now, but I guarantee you it won’t end well for you or me.”

                “How do you know so much about him, huh?” Breeze pounded a fist against the bars of Lin’s chamber. Lin stopped for a moment. Asami couldn’t see her, but she could see the outline of her chi lines going slightly more rigid.

                “I was the one who caught him the last time.”

                “You must’ve been awfully young,” Breeze growled.

                “We both were.”

                Asami let the conversation fade away. She could worry about that later. The two men had come peering into the darkness, one of them waving a flashlight. Neither were firebenders, then. Firebenders were always the most sudden, dangerous fighters, her old combat instructor had taught her. Water benders needed a moment to gather themselves, and earthbenders tended to be slow, but firebenders could all but explode at you. It was no small wonder that most criminals were firebenders. She waited for the two lackeys to pass beneath her perch, attaching a grapple arrow to the ceiling while she waited. When they passed under her she dropped down, hurtling towards the earth, and slammed down on the back of one of them. Before the other turned, she grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and jabbed his throat. He buckled over, and Asami brought a knee up to meet his face. He collapsed with a thud, and Asami triggered the arrow still attached to her wrist, shooting back up to her old perch.

                She had managed to keep that mostly quiet. Breeze—and the five other guards—seemed vaguely interested in what was going on, but they still didn’t seem too concerned. They’d probably thought the lights had just shorted. Asami knew she only had moments before they began to suspect that someone was there.

                She looked around the room, trying to find something she could use, when her eyes caught on the fusebox, near the entrance on the other side. She crept out of the darkness and towards the fusebox. She had to be absolutely sure that she was in range. However, she _also_ knew that the sudden darkness had prompted a couple of the guards to start looking upwards again. Breeze was once more distracted by Lin, who was talking in circles. Asami wondered if Lin suspected something was up.

                She got into position and hurriedly extracted an electric bolt, inserting it into her right-hand crossbow. The arms of the weapon automatically extended, while a wire caught onto the tail of the bolt. Taking a breath, she raised her arm and took aim. She couldn’t afford to miss. Just as she pulled the trigger in her gauntlet, one of the guards looked up towards her and blurted out—

                “What the—?!”

                Asami’s stomach lurched as she watched the bolt fly, shooting towards the fuse box with pinpoint accuracy. She had a brief moment to thank the spirits for Ibushi’s prowess in making the crossbow before it slammed into the fusebox, punctured its outer casing, and released a burst of electricity that arced around the fusebox in an explosion of blue light. She shielded her eyes, and then breathed a sigh of relief as the lights in the building shut down. She could hear the men below her panicking, and though it was dark, she could see their skeletal chi lines as clear as day. She leapt from her hiding place and glided to another corner of the room, shooting out her grapple hook to latch on to the roof once more, above an isolated man. He was trying to get back to his companions, which was commendable. She dropped down on him and knocked him out, astonished at how easy it was. Ibushi’s armour took all the impact out of the fall, but the people she was landing on took the full force of her weight descending from a good fifteen feet above.

She swung back up to the ceiling and looked around. Four men remained, and they were each travelling in pairs. One in each pair was bending a small flame to make a light. Well, she supposed they had to stop handing themselves over sooner or later. Breeze, meanwhile, was sticking close to Commissioner Lin, though she hadn’t made any aggressive moves. She was moving her arms, though, and Asami could see her energy surging along her arms and in her core. She was getting ready to bend.

Asami pulled out another powder bolt and shot it at one group of thugs, then glided towards the other. She ignored the panicked screams of the first two and intercepted the others, who were trying to run to their companions’ aide. Asami glided straight into one of them, kneeing him in the face, then ducked beneath a bolt of flame that his partner shot at her. She ducked beneath his next blow and flipped him over her back. When he landed she stomped on his face, shattering his nose and leaving him more or less helpless from pain. She drew two knives from her belt and threw them at the other two, catching them on their arms. The powder that her explosive had coated them in was making it impossible for them to bend, briefly; that coupled with sudden wounds in the dark would leave them in an outright panic. Asami grappled back to the roof and watched as they both fled for the exit. Apparently their fear of the unknown predator in the dark had overcome their fear of Ms. Breeze.

That, Asami realized, was a mistake. Breeze seemed to realize that they were running, and sent a huge gust of air at the two of them, knocking them over in a sprawling heap.  She left Lin’s cage and stalked towards Asami’s location, shouting in the dark.

“You think I don’t know where you are? You think I don’t know where you _all_ are?! You can’t run from the wind!”

_She knows where I am._ Asami could see in the dark, but Breeze could apparently feel the wind. Asami dropped to the ground before Breeze could blast her with wind. She landed hard, but Ibushi’s armour absorbed the impact again.

“Come here, then, if you think you’re so clever,” Breeze muttered, stalking towards her. Asami could start to make out her features on top of her chi lines as the woman approached. She was broad, and obviously powerful. Asami had been trained to fight large opponents, but she hadn’t ever had a whole lot of practice. Particularly not one who could _airbend_.

“Let the Commissioner go,” Asami said, the voice modifier making it sound like a terrible threat. Breeze actually paused for a moment, seeming hesitant. For an instant, Asami could almost see herself through Breeze’s eyes: a figure clad in armour, dropping from ceilings, taking out her men like they were dolls, and dressed like a half-mythical creature that most people didn’t think existed.

“The Commissioner’s all I have left!” Breeze suddenly jumped into the air and flew at her, propelled like she was on a rocket. Asami barely ducked in time as one of Breeze’s massive arms swung out at her head. She drew a knife and flung it at the airborne woman, but Breeze turned quickly in mid-air and dashed back towards her. Breeze caught Asami in the stomach with a vicious thrust that knocked the wind out of Asami even _with_ her armour. Pure instinct took over as she turned away from another of Breeze’s blows, desperately backpedalling and drawing in pained breath. A sudden blast of wind knocked her onto her back, forcing precious air out of her lungs. Breeze stalked towards her, moving with weighty authority.

“I don’t know who you are,” Breeze whispered, “But you’re going to die here.”

Asami looked up in time to see Breeze rotating her arms above her head, as though she were swimming. Asami struggled to her knees and tried to take a deep breath, but only got a slight gasp of air.

_Oh no_.

“Have to admit, you had me worried for a bit.” Breeze continued to advance towards Asami, clenching her fists. Asami fell to the ground again, struggling to take in some air, trying desperately to breathe….

**_Do not fall here._ **

Somehow, the voice reminded her of Ibushi … Ibushi, telling her that the electric arrows could be used to incapacitate. She remembered the explosion of electricity when her last bolt had struck the fuse box, and fumbled for another from her belt.

_This had better … work …._ She managed to insert it into her crossbow, starting a little at how quickly the arms extended and the bolt caught. Everything seemed to be moving fast, spinning ….

Using all the energy she had left, she raised her arm, pointed, and fired just as she felt the blackness coming for her. The small bolt flew through the air, the wind traveling around it alerting Breeze. She raised her hand to create a blast of air, trying to deflect the arrow. Asami felt her consciousness slipping.

Breeze yelled in alarm and fell to the ground as the bolt struck true. She hadn’t been able to deflect it in time. Asami desperately gulped in air as it flowed back into the space, occupying the area that Breeze had blocked it from. Breeze mustn’t have been able to fully exhaust the area of air, or Asami probably would have passed out already.

_Always move forward_ , Asami reminded herself, getting back to her feet with some difficulty. She walked over to Breeze’s body, still convulsing and twitching as electricity passed through her. Asami knocked her on the back of the head and extracted the bolt, which was probably a mercy. If she wasn’t tended too soon, though, a concussion like that might be even worse. She ignored that niggling detail and grabbed the keys around Breeze’s belt. She made her way over to Lin’s cage and unlocked the cage, fumbling with the keys. She looked in to see Commissioner Lin, still wearing her armour, chained by one hand to the back of the cage. Asami threw her the keys.

                “Who are you?” Lin asked as she unlocked herself. Her voice was hard and unyielding. Asami supposed she shouldn’t have suspected gratitude from the police commissioner for vigilante action. Asami didn’t answer.

                “Who were you talking about, with Breeze? The man Breeze wanted to kill?” Lin’s face darkened.

                “The criminal who escaped from the prison,” Lin said. Her expression was as emotive as a slab of stone. “He did all this. He started the earthquake that released all those prisoners and he led me to Breeze to be ambushed.”

                “Earthbender?”

                “The most powerful I’ve ever seen.” Asami sensed that, beneath her professional stoicism, there was deep bitterness, there.

                “I thought your mother—” Lin jerked as if she’d been slapped.

                “No. Not like him. There’s never been anyone like him.”

                “Why haven’t I heard of this man?”

                “Because you’re not police. You’re a lunatic in a costume. You’re that one they were calling the Night Spirit, aren’t you?” Asami stayed for a moment, looking into Lin’s eyes. Despite what must’ve been exhaustion, starvation, and obvious emotional damage, she seemed unshaken. She wouldn’t say any more.

                Asami turned and left, grappling up to the roof and disappearing into the darkness. She still felt a sharp ache in her ribs from where Breeze had punched her, and the rest of her body was reminding her just how hard she’d pushed herself in the past two hours. She climbed through a window and fired a grappling arrow to a tall building, slingshotting off of it and extending her cape behind her, flying through the night. She ignored the pain in her limbs and permitted herself to smile. Tonight she hadn’t just beat up some thugs. Tonight she’d done something that mattered.

                The world would never know it, but tonight she’d reclaimed a small bit of her mother’s memory from her father’s madness.

xXx

                When Mako and Korra finally emerged from the long, claustrophobic tunnel that Bolin had constructed, they were surprised to find Bolin waiting at the entrance, sitting on the ground. His eyes lit up when he saw them, and he murmured something into a radio. Mako couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he did see relief break out across Bolin’s face.

                “Korra! Mako! I’ve got great news!”

                “Do you really?” Mako asked dryly, trying not to “go all mama bear,” as Korra put it.

                “Yeah! Commissioner Lin’s safe! Isn’t that awesome?” Bolin smiled like a big dork, and hugged the both of them in quick succession.

                “How do you know?” Korra asked. Commissioner Lin obviously wasn’t nearby. 

                “Korra you are never going to believe me but here I go because I swear this is actually the truth,” Bolin said, before he thrust a radio in her hands. Korra looked as confused as Mako felt. “She gave me that! Uh, this woman in black armour. She had a cape! And a crossbow thing.” Bolin provided helpful approximations with finger puppets. “It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen! Then she said she was going to go bust Commissioner Lin out, but she wanted me to wait for you guys.” Bolin tapped a finger to his chin. “Though I suppose that’s kind of irrelevant now because apparently everything’s okay!”

                “Breathe, Bolin,” Korra said, a wry smirk on her face. Mako wasn’t sure how he felt. He was just happy that Bolin hadn’t gone off and hurt himself.

                “Come on, what do you think, I just bought a radio to give you some crazy story?” Bolin said, sounding unusually dry. Mako blinked. He _did_ have a point.

                “Hey, what’s that?” Korra asked, looking upwards. Mako frowned and followed her gaze, staring at something moving through the sky. It was roughly the size of a person, except with huge, black wings. His jaw dropped open as she swooped overhead, about thirty feet in the air. He watched the black, winged shadow gliding across the city, until she was completely out of sight.

                “See? I told you! She saved my life!”

                “Who is she?” Mako asked in wonder. He turned to Korra, who was as stunned as he was.

                “Isn’t it obvious?”  Bolin said softly, a huge grin on his face. “She’s a hero!”


	5. Chapter Five: Through the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Republic City is stunned by the rescue of Commissioner Lin by a mysterious, costumed vigilante, Asami realizes that she may not be quite ready for her new vocation; there is a monster in Republic City, and it has not been stopped or slowed.
> 
> (also, guys: thanks a ton for leaving kudos/commenting. it's a big help when I'm slogging away at these planet-sized chapters)

                Lin might have been confined to a hospital bed, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still the police commissioner. Much to her attendants’ chagrin, police officers, politicians, and reporters were filtering through the white-walled room like seawater through gills. She hadn’t even really been that hurt, aside from a few bruises and some minor dehydration. Presently one of her Lieutenants was handing her a detailed run-down of the major damages incurred by the aftermath of the quake. Lin was seated in her bed, reading the report with mounting fury. Half the major roads in the city had been ruined, criminals were on the loose, and the United Forces army was making very real indication that they’d have to intervene. Iroh had come in person to tell Lin, a few hours ago. She didn’t have to like it, but she knew that he didn’t have a choice, either.

                “We’ve set up patrols along the ruined roads, ma’am, and we’re combing the streets for the—”

                “I can read, Lieutenant,” Lin replied curtly, setting aside the report in disgust. All of this had been the doing of one man. She had been so _close_.

                _No,_ Lin realized, _I was never close. I was exactly where he wanted me to be. I can’t afford to let that happen again._ He was like a tiger in the jungle, forcing prey one way or another, onto the killing grounds where he would walk up and tear out their throat. She had to stop letting him lead her—lead _Republic City_ —to the fate he had chosen. She looked back to her Lieutenant.

                “Double down on the patrols, and travel only in pairs. A lot of the criminals from the Hole won’t hesitate to kill a cop.”

                “Yes ma’am.”

                “And one other thing. I want everything you can tell me about a woman going about in a bat costume.” The man looked slightly uneasy, then said,

                “Uh, ma’am, have you seen the paper?” Lin glared at him.

                “I have been busy tending to the mess that’s being very generously called a city.” The Lieutenant coughed and handed her a paper. “Oh for crying out loud,” Lin muttered. On the front page of the paper was an artfully taken picture of the strange, armoured vigilante, flying in silhouette against the moon. Her winged cape made a rather striking outline of a bat’s wings against the moon’s light. For a moment she admired the obvious skill of the photographer before she saw the headline. She read the emboldened captioned without enthusiasm.

“Republic City’s new hero: The Batwoman.”

She flipped through the article. It mostly contained a brief summary of accounts reporting the “Batwoman” flying overhead, towards and from the warehouse where the dangerous criminal identified as Ms. Breeze had been held up. There were also a few stories by non-benders who claimed she’d protected them from bending thugs.

                “The, uh, new recruit? He wanted to talk to you about her. Says he met her.”

                “Is he here now?” Lin read the article more closely. A blacksmith’s apprentice sworn that a woman in black had saved his life, and that she’d made it clear that she wasn’t an Equalist. Well, that was good news, if there was any truth in it. Amon had lied through his teeth, after all. There was no reason this woman wouldn’t do the same.

                She had probably saved Lin’s life, of course, but that didn’t mean Lin trusted her. “Batwoman” indeed.

                “Uh, ma’am?”

                “Sorry, Lieutenant, I was distracted,” Lin muttered. “What were you saying?”

                “The new recruit, Bolin; he’s just outside, if you want to see him.”

                “I do. Send him in.”

                The lieutenant nodded and backtracked out of the room. As he left, Bolin awkwardly edged in past him, holding something small and metallic in his left hand. He immediately assumed a rigid posture and did an almost cartoonish salute. Lin smirked and waved a hand.

                “That’s enough, young man. As I recall we didn’t manage to actually start your training before I made a fool of myself and got captured.”

                “Um, right.” He clearly didn’t know how to respond.

                “Well. You met her, did you?” For now, Lin was keeping the details of her conversation with the Batwoman to herself.

                “Uh, yeah! To be honest I was, uh, kind of trying to come and bust you out.” Lin snorted, and Bolin had the grace to look bashful. “Yeah. Anyway, I bumped into her and she convinced me to try and keep people away from Breeze’s warehouse while she went to work. She also gave me this to contact her.” He handed her a radio. Lin examined it briefly, somewhat disappointed to find that it was a plain, ordinary device.

                “The radio frequency you contacted her on went dead, I imagine,” Lin muttered, half talking to herself.

                “Nope! Though if you try talking into it you won’t get an answer anymore. I think she wanted me to give it to you, so if you ever needed to contact her—”

                “To do what, lock her up?”

                “But she saved you! She beat up all those bad guys!” Bolin looked at her like she’d grown another head.

                “And she did all that by breaking the law into little tiny pieces. If you want to be a police officer, you need to start thinking about the big picture. Republic City is fractured right now. People are terrified, and they don’t know who to trust. What would it say if the police force started putting its trust in some woman in a costume?”

                Bolin was quiet for a moment, his brows knitted together. That was good. He had to think seriously about these things if he was going to be a cop. After a moment of intense deliberation, his eyes lit up and he smiled at her.

                “Well, you have to admit, it’s a pretty cool costume!”

                Lin actually chuckled.

                “I suppose it is. Now go on, Bolin. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of things you’d rather be doing right now. After all, tomorrow your free time is forfeit to the Republic City metalbending police. Report to the Station at oh-six-hundred sharp. I’ll be out of this damn bed by tomorrow.” She’d expected him to be intimidated, but instead he only grinned wildly.

                “Awesome! I can’t wait!” He looked like he was restraining himself from hugging her. He turned and left with a bounce in his step. It was hard not to like him.

xXx

                Asami rolled over and grumbled something incomprehensible at the knocking on her door. She tucked herself beneath her outrageously comfortable bedsheets and pretended to be asleep. For a moment there was silence. Beautiful, sweet silence …

                The rattling of Ibushi’s cane on her door chewed through her brain like a jackhammer.

                “Come in,” she mumbled into her pillows. She’d changed out of her suit last night at Ibushi’s lair, and had donned a pair of simple travelling clothes. She was still wearing them. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear the distinctive clacking of Ibushi’s cane as he entered her room, discreetly shutting the door behind him.

                “Bats are nocturnal,” Asami groaned.

                “Are they now?” Ibushi didn’t sound the slightest bit interested. He handed her the newspaper. She pried her head—spirits, her hair was a sweaty disaster—from her pillow and glanced at the paper, pawing at it with a clumsy hand. She yawned and leaned back into her bed, wincing as half a dozen bruises clamoured for attention.

                “Someone caught me on camera.”

                “They did a rather good job of it, as a matter of fact.” Ibushi placed a tray of breakfast on her nightstand. “From the cooks,” he said with a wry smile. “Don’t expect me to make a habit of this.”

                “Don’t worry, I won’t.” She reached for a glass of orange juice and examined the paper closely. “The _Batwoman_?” She said incredulously. “It’s the Night Spirit! The. Night. Spirit!” She gulped down some juice and leaned back, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. She mouthed the word ‘batwoman’ again in mute horror.

                Ibushi seemed to find all of this terribly funny.

                “You must admit, it does have a ring to it.”

                “Oh, shut up.” She threw the paper at him. Ibushi barked out a laugh, then worked his expression into something more solemn.

                “Do you have any serious injuries?” It was amazing how well Ibushi could imitate the manner of a bedside physician. It occurred to Asami that he may well have _been_ a bedside physician.

                “No, I don’t think so. I think I’ve got some bruised ribs that are reacquainting me with the word ‘ow,’ but I’m mostly fine. Your armour was—”

                “Let me see,” Ibushi said, approaching her bed. Asami raised her left arm and indicated where the pain was. He pressed against her ribs and she let out a sharp hiss of pain, but he seemed relieved. “That’s good.”

                “That’s _good_?” Asami repeated.

                “If your ribs were cracked, that would have been louder.” He ignored Asami’s withering look. “I’m going to need to get some supplies. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

                As he left her room, Asami found herself wondering how he knew where to find their medicine cabinet. Maybe he’d done some searching while she’d been out last night. With impressive haste he returned, with a medical kit.

                “Not to be indecent, but you’ll need to remove your shirt.” Asami rolled her eyes and did so. He moved with quick, bustling efficiency, wrapping bandages around her ribcage. Asami couldn’t help but feel impatient, but a more reasonable part of her mind recognized that he was very good at this.

                “Were you a doctor?”

                “It was my first line of work.” Ibushi’s tone was idle and content as he worked. “I always liked mechanical engineering, but it seemed a less stable occupation. As I worked on peoples’ bodies, though, I thought of how I could improve what the human being could do. After a while I came back to all those crazy ideas I had when I was a kid.”

                “How— _ow_ —how did you meet my father?”

                “Treating him for smoke inhalation. The earliest Satomobiles were not good for the lungs. It turned out I had a few ideas on how he could correct some of the glitches in his design, and after that we worked together. We were like brothers, though we hadn’t known each other long. We’d both come from nothing; I suppose we wanted to leave our pasts well behind us.” Asami frowned. She’d never really known what that was like. Her life certainly hadn’t been _easy_ —far from it—but she’d never wanted for anything material. She’d never known what it was like to be poor, to be a half-step away from starving. Bolin and Mako had, though Mako understandably distanced himself from that time. Bolin seemed to mind less.  She still felt a little embarrassed at how she’d spat out the slop they’d been given by the vagabonds beneath Republic City. Out of shame she turned away from that memory.

                “You were right about the cape. When I come out of a landing from a full-speed glide, the suit can’t quite absorb the shock.”

                “I told you. I can try and reinforce the boots and leg armour further to counteract it. Whatever compelled you to do such a thing?”

                “It was Bolin, he—he was in danger. It was the only way I could get to him in time.”

                “Well, you know what they say. Rescue the damsel….” Ibushi grinned suggestively as he readied another length of bandages. Asami made a point of rolling her eyes. “I suppose all that training your father paid for is no joke.”

                “That and a few months’ worth of practice on street thugs. But I need to be faster, stronger….” Asami raised her arm as Ibushi adjusted another bandage. “I had to use the element of surprise to take most of them down, and when I had to fight Ms. Breeze—she was the size of a platypus bear, I swear—I nearly got myself killed.” She realized how that was bound to sound, and hurried to add, “It was your electric bolt that saved me.”

                “It is astonishing that you’re here in one piece. But at least all this madness is over for now. I doubt there’ll be anyone as severe as Ms. Breeze again.”

                Asami remembered, in a flash, Lin speaking of someone terrible, with bitter dread.

                “We might not be so lucky. Do you know of any earthbending criminals? Someone escaped from the Hole, someone who worried Commissioner Lin. She said he was the most powerful earthbender she’d ever seen.”

                Ibushi paused for a moment.

                “There is one,” he said tentatively. He went back to working on her bandages, as though to distract himself. “There’s one. I thought—we all thought—he was dead. He had to be dead. Nothing else could stop something like that.”

                “Something like _what—_ dammit,” Asami cursed. She’d yawned and stretched her arm too far.

                “There was a murderer, when I was a young man—about your age—called the Black Tiger. He had some connection to the Beifongs, no one ever knew the full story. I saw him once. He had these huge obsidian shards floating about him like claws, moving like they were a part of him. I’d never seen an earthbender like that. He travelled along the countryside, killing indiscriminately, until he came here. At first Lin Beifong tried to fight him, but he beat her off. As far as I know she’s the only one who ever survived a direct, single confrontation with him. It ultimately took four of the most powerful benders the world had ever seen to defeat him. The Avatar himself joined forces with Toph Beifong, his wife Katara, and Princess Azula. Only then did they stop him.”

                “Why hasn’t anyone heard about this?” Asami couldn’t help but be sceptical of such a fantastic tale. Princess _Azula_ —a Fire Nation royal who had famously had her title taken away and eventually restored by her brother—had been involved, alongside three of the greatest benders in modern memory, and this was the first she was hearing of it?

                “You have to understand, this was not like war, or some kind of attack. This was evil, the purist evil inflicted on the earth. The Avatar would never speak of the Black Tiger. Not once in all of Princess Azula’s collected texts does she mention the criminal she helped defeat. Anyone who even spoke those words in the presence of Toph Beifong was in serious danger of arrest. No one talks about him. _If_ he is alive … I can believe that man could start an earthquake.” He tied off Asami’s bandages with a tug and stared into her eyes, years of hardship and suffering plain on his face.

                “Well, if that’s the case, I’d better find out if it really is him, then.”

                “I’m going to need to ask you not to do anything too strenuous for a few days. Otherwise these bruises could develop into cracks. Or worse.” Asami moved an arm experimentally, and was pleased to find that the sharp pain in her rib had receded.

                “I’ll try. Do you think I can afford to do a little cave exploring?” Ibushi looked aghast. “I’ll be careful.”

                “I suppose you’re going to go ahead and do it whether or not I protest. Just _promise_ me that you’ll be careful and take it _slow_. Nothing too strenuous. You’d make a fine Batwoman if you end up bedridden for months.”

                “I’ll be fine. I just need to go visit an old friend. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to wash up and change.” Ibushi sighed and packed up his supplies, leaving Asami alone. She gingerly got out of bed, ignoring the smaller injuries she’d collected last night. She stretched her arms over her head and took in a deep breath. There was pain, but nothing too severe. That was good.

                She needed answers, and the bat spirit had helped her just last night. She was counting on it helping her again.

xXx

                The man named Freedom knocked on a door, waiting patiently in a metalbender’s uniform. He clasped his hands behind his back, his face sympathetic. The scars that marked the left side of his face somehow seemed less threatening, turned away from the light and partially obscured by his long hair. After a moment, a handsome Fire Nation woman came to the door. Maiko, her name was. The daughter was Ky Lee. Freedom smiled sadly.

                “Hello, ma’am, I’m officer Lao.”

                “I don’t know you.” The woman had an air of curt, easy competence, even if it was still tinged by grief.

                “I’m sorry we have to meet like this. I’ve been led to understand the gentleman who was seeing you about Korrlac’s pension stopped visiting?”

                Maiko eyed him critically.

                “Yes.” She closed her eyes and let out a breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just—with all this madness going on, we thought we’d been forgotten.”

                Freedom’s face was sympathetic. He smiled softly, though his eyes were sad. His stance was open and welcoming. When he spoke his voice was gentle with the uncertain kindness of someone confronted by overwhelming loss.

                “You haven’t been forgotten, ma’am.”

                “Please, it’s Maiko. Come in.”

                Freedom followed after her and closed the door gently. He examined their home in the space of a half second. A large, open family room connected to the foyer. A hallway that led to a bathroom and what he assumed were two bedrooms; one each for the daughter and the parents. There was an open kitchen whose most notable feature was a table constructed out of metal, likely bended by Korrlac himself. Freedom couldn’t help but notice the rigid, compromising workmanship. Sloppy.

                _No one appreciates metal’s character._

                “Mom? Who is it?” A young girl came charging out of her room, her sharp eyes angry. Freedom masked his disappointment with polite bafflement.

                “Ky Lee, behave yourself,” Maiko said sharply. Freedom filed that bit of information away for later. Maiko gestured to Freedom, who smiled politely. “This is Officer Lao. As I understand he’s here about your father’s pension.”

                “Hello.” Freedom inclined his head. “I didn’t really know your father that well ... but I was the only person available. Things are difficult, now.”

                “You don’t say?” Ky Lee replied rudely. She looked at her mom. “I’m going to go practice.” Maiko sighed.

                “Just stay in the back yard, sweetie. I don’t trust the street right now.” Freedom stayed silent, watching the two of them closely. Maiko’s posture was rigid and straight, while Ky Lee’s was hunched and fierce. Ky Lee stalked out their back door, leaving Maiko to smile apologetically in her wake. Freedom’s eyes followed Ky Lee as she worked on her sword forms. She was excellent. He looked back to Maiko. After a prolonged, uncomfortable silence, she spoke.

                “Here, come to the table. Would you like something to drink?”

                “I’m fine, thank you.” Freedom slid into a seat, and Maiko sat opposite him. He felt the quiet coldness of the metal, the subtle throb of the earth particles twisted inside, set to work against their nature. He’d had to rebend the armour he’d stolen for that very reason. “What we think happened is that the man working with you before—I’m sorry, I can’t remember his name—”

                “Huang. His name is Huang.”

                “Huang, right.” Freedom smiled apologetically. “Well, he’s missing, I’m afraid. We don’t know if he tried to leave town—it looks like he was embezzling some money—or if he was caught up in all this madness. But ….” Freedom shook his head and shrugged. “He’s gone. So, we—well, I—thought that maybe you folks should be taken care of by one of your own. If you don’t mind, I’d like to just check in every now and again. Make sure things are going well, you know. It might be nice to have an extra eye out sometimes. And of course I’ll make sure everything goes well with Korrlac’s pension. As far as I know that should take care of itself. We just want to make sure we’re doing what we can for you.”

                Maiko had been struggling to remain impassive as he spoke, her hands folded in front of her. He could guess at what was going through her mind, how hard all of this had to be. She was remembering her husband. She was thinking of her daughter, whose future was in jeopardy, whose safety was at risk. After a moment she raised a hand to her mouth, shaking with the effort to fight back tears.

                “Oh spirits, I’m sorry—I can’t believe I’m crying in front of a stranger. It’s just—”

                “I know.” Freedom looked lost, unsure of what exactly to say, but sincere. He looked lost, clearly wanting to help but without any idea how to do it. His eyes were kind, but not pitying or pandering. “So would that be okay?”

                “Yes, thank you.”

                “There’s … just one thing. We want to track some of the money. It’s all a little above my pay grade, but for now, try and keep quiet that a cop is watching this street. Some of our detectives think there may be a scheme to target families like yours right now.” Maiko nodded and wiped a few tears out of her eyes.

                “Ever since Korrlac died, we’ve heard almost nothing. Commissioner Beifong tried to visit, but you know how busy she is—”

                Lao couldn’t help but smile.

                “I do.”

                He looked out at the backyard, where Ky Lee was still practicing with bitter ferocity.

                “I lost my father when I was young,” Freedom said, the lie sounding as natural as daylight. “How’s she doing?”

                “Like you’d expect. She was always headstrong—I suppose Korrlac must have talked your ear off about her, he’s so proud.” Freedom chose not to mention that she’d referred to Korrlac in the present tense. “But with … with Korrlac’s passing, she’s been angry. She’s confused. I don’t know what to say to her, I mean, how can you ask her to move on?”

                “I think I know what you mean,” Freedom said, his voice low and thoughtful. “Would it be all right if I went out and talked to her? I might be able to help. Or at least to understand.”

                Maiko nodded. “Thank you.”

                Freedom smiled and got to his feet, heading out to the back yard. Of course Maiko trusted him. He was wearing the metalbending armour that only the police could use, and he was kind, and patient. She needed to believe there was someone out there who was on her side. He walked out to the small, sandy backlot that Ky Lee was practicing in. She either didn’t notice him or pretended not to. He walked towards her.

                A sword came an inch from his face. A fraction of a second too late, he remembered to flinch.

                “Woah there.” He managed a shaky smile and raised a hand to block Ky Lee’s next sword strike, which she cut short. She looked slightly shocked, still riding the exhilaration of swinging about a big, deadly weapon. She put the sword down and mumbled,

                “Sorry.” Her tan face was flushed with exertion, and her hair—long and straight, like her mother’s—was held back in a messy ponytail. She took more after her mother than her father, but Freedom recognized Korrlac’s eyes living on in hers.

                “Don’t mention it. You’re really quite good with that sword.”

                “I practice.”

                Freedom chuckled and took a step back.

                “Well, if you opted not to practice on _me_ ,” Freedom grinned wryly, “I’d appreciate it.” Ky Lee sheathed her sword and glared at him, as though challenging him. Freedom only stared back, his face carefully blank with only the slightest hint of sadness encroaching on his features; a minor downturn of the eyes, a smile that couldn’t quite form.

                “What do you want?”

                “I just want to help,” Freedom replied honestly.

                “That’s bullshit,” Ky Lee replied bluntly. Freedom didn’t react at first. Then, he smiled gently, reached up, and brushed back his hair to demonstrate the scars on his left cheek.

                “I got those when I was young. A tigerelk escaped from its cage and tried to maul me. My father died fighting it off.”

                “A tigerelk? Aren’t those—”

                “Yes.” Freedom brushed his hair back to partially hide the scars again. “They’re quite rare. This one was from a travelling zoo. I think it was angry at being caged.”

                “You stick anything in a cage and it’ll get angry,” Ky Lee muttered. Freedom was impressed by her insight.

                “Yes. And I know it’s not exactly the same, but, Ky Lee … your father died trying to protect you. You and everyone in Republic City. I know how hard it is to lose someone like that.” He stopped speaking, and only looked at her, his face neither kind nor harsh. It was blank with the quiet comprehension of someone who understood loss. Ky Lee didn’t speak. Freedom clapped an arm to her shoulder and smiled. “I didn’t know Korrlac that well, but I know he was a good man. It looks like I’m destined to monitor this little part of the world, so if you ever need anything—help, protection, someone to bail you out if you ‘practice’ at anyone else—” he gave a conspiratorial wink like a clever old uncle, “Just say the word. And if you ever want to talk, I’d be happy to listen, too.”

                Freedom turned and left. He said his goodbyes to Maiko, and promised to return in a few days’ time. He reaffirmed that he’d keep an eye on them while he was on patrol, to make sure they were safe.

                There were dangerous people out there, after all.

xXx

                Asami slipped quietly from her mansion, opting to proceed on foot. She tied her hair back into a ponytail and eschewed her normal, more elaborate style of dress. It wouldn’t do for Asami Sato to be seen walking about with strange injuries just the day after the—Asami cringed as she thought of the name—Batwoman had appeared. She knew she’d never be able to access the cave by the route she’d taken all those years ago; she’d been much smaller, then. But at the same time she felt something calling her there, something pulling her inexorably to a quiet in the dark. As she was unable to go by her old route, she was returning to the mountains around Ibushi’s Lair, where she knew the caves connected somewhere. When she’d emerged from the cave as a child, shivering from the cold and still stunned from contacting a spirit, she’d lost track of where she had been.

                She was starting to wonder if this wasn’t the nature of the place, that it could only be found whenever the spirit that ruled over it deemed it necessary. She let the idle thoughts occupy herself, distracting her from the sharp pain that would flare up in her ribs whenever she moved the wrong way. Going cave diving under the circumstances probably was, Asami acknowledged, extremely stupid. But then again, stupid was working pretty well thus far.

                As she came to the series of sloping mountains and sheer cliff sides she looked around for the cave entrance, praying that this one would fit an adult. She tracked along the edges of the cave until, just faintly, she felt something almost tugging at her, compelling her. The familiar feeling came on a wave of relief, and Asami followed now where it led her. The spirit guided her with gentle pushes, insisting she go this way or that, leading her slowly away from Republic City, towards a mountain.  She pressed against the smooth rock and saw a spot that had seemed like solid rock, where a part in two slabs of rock opened into a pitch black slit in the stone. She approached it and could smell the earthy air inside. More than that, she felt the bat spirit pushing her onwards. She crept into the crevice, wincing in pain as she stretched out her ribs. Ibushi was probably not going to be happy with her.

                She inched into the darkness, and though she consciously knew that she was putting herself in very real danger, she couldn’t help but feel welcome. Just last night the darkness had been her only ally when she’d been hopelessly outnumbered. From somewhere deep within the cave she heard a harmless squeak, bouncing off the walls to reach her.  She pulled a flashlight from her pocket and peered into the cave. Once she was sure she could fit without getting stuck, she slipped into the cracks and started moving down a long, narrow passage. The rock walls pressed against her shoulders, but she manoeuvered through the tunnel, her flashlight lighting her way. The ceiling and floor all seemed to be pressing against her, forming sharp edges that threatened to slice through her clothing and skin. She felt a moment of doubt, but ignored it and pressed on into the cave.

                As she travelled through the cave, strange clicking noises echoed out from farther in, beckoning her further. She guided herself through the darkness with a hand on one wall, and was surprised when she touched something cold and wet. She jumped and slammed into the other wall with her bad side, cursing under her breath. She reached out again and rolled her eyes in exasperation: she’d jumped at a bit of condensation on some stone. She raised her flashlight to look into the interior of the cave and pressed on, though the light was growing dimmer. That was odd. She had been sure to pack fresh batteries before she’d left; her father had practically _invented_ batteries. Her flashlight lit upon a fork in the cave and she went towards it.

                A sudden gust of wind threw her hair into her eyes, and her flashlight clattered to the floor. She flipped her hair out of her face and looked around for her flashlight, which had sputtered out in the dark.

                “Oh, _brilliant_ ,” Asami muttered, groping blindly along the cave floor. She couldn’t find the flashlight, but she did find that if she moved to her right the rock floor grew smoother, and more welcoming. She went down that pathway and breathed easy, for a time. The walls grew a little wider. But the air was stale, and the familiar, welcoming sensation that she associated with the bat spirit was gone. She felt absolutely lonely. She turned back around and went down the other path, with the sharp, jagged rocks. The tunnel closed around her, but the air was fresh, and she again felt that nameless presence beckoning her on. She got on her hands and knees and crawled through the narrowing passage, wincing as a rock cut a sharp line in her shoulder. She inched forward for what felt like hours, until her left hand hit something wet again. Less surprised this time, she reached out and felt water gently lapping against the stone floor. She felt around until she found a rock and threw one into the darkness. The stone splashed against the water with a _plunk_ , followed a dull _tock_ as it struck the riverbed. The little underground river was shallow.

                She waded out into the river, carefully getting to her feet as the cave’s roof rose. She could hear the faint sound of flapping wings growing louder, moving rapidly towards her. Bats exploded out of dark holes in the walls, swirling around Asami, gliding above the shallow water and swirling it into a whirlpool around her. She ducked her head for a moment and nearly slipped on the wet rocks beneath her feet, her heart lurching out of her chest. She managed to find her balance before she was suddenly blinded by a brilliant light.

                When the light faded, the bats were all hanging from the ceiling. The cave was now lit up at the center of the pool. It was bigger than she’d thought, much bigger than she’d ever dared imagine. The ceiling was high and wide, dripping with stalactites like falling water frozen in time. She looked towards the thing that had generated the light and saw a huge, hulking bat, hunched over and gazing at her with bright eyes. She walked towards it, the water splashing against her ankles with every step. The steady rhythm of dips and splashes was oddly reassuring. When she came before the bat she knelt before it, not quite knowing why.

                **_Rise._**

                She rose and looked at the creature. Its fur was incredibly fine and black, like richest velvet. Its wings were huge and leathery, bent back as it leaned on the thumbs of the massive hand-like appendages.

                **_Why are you here?_**

                Asami blinked.

                “I felt you calling,” she explained simply.

                **_You did not have to listen_**. Asami didn’t really have an answer for that. **_Do you come and go only at the suggestion of others?_**

“No!” Asami’s voice echoed and magnified through the cavern, bouncing off the stalactites decorated with hanging bats. Some of the nocturnal creatures shuffled their wings in annoyance.

                **_Then why are you here?_**

                “You helped me before.” Asami felt unreasonably threatened. This spirit had only ever helped her, but now it was exposing a nerve that she had long tried to keep hidden. “It seemed smart to try to find you.”

                **_Are you driven by intelligence? That will not be enough._**

“I’m driven by doing the right thing.” Asami clenched her jaw shut. She didn’t want to say anything ill-advised to a gigantic spirit of night.

                **_What is right?_** The bat blinked and looked to the smaller bats on the ceiling. **_That is hard. What is right for my brothers and sisters? Silence and darkness. Not so for you, I think._** The spirit turned its great, doglike head to her. **_You are a creature of tragedy. Perhaps the world has produced exactly what it needed. You will be needed to do what is necessary. So many of your kind are blind._**

The bat retreated into the shadows. Asami felt something cool pressing against her ribs and looked down in alarm, but saw nothing there. The pain had left her completely.

                **_You have learned from the world of humans._** Asami heard several loud splashes as man-shaped figures dropped from the ceiling, rising to their feet. They were shadowy approximations of men and women, their faces obscured. In the place of arms they had long, leathery wings. **_Now learn from the world of darkness. Learn to see._**

                The light surrounding the bat spirit faded. In the blackness Asami heard splashes as the shadows ran at her. She heard the glide of a wing as it cut through the night to strike at her. She ducked and slipped on the stones, falling on her side. One of the shadows kicked her in the back and a starry explosion blotted out her vision and clotted her senses.

                **_See._**

                Asami closed her eyes and listened. There was a splash as one of the shadows pulled their leg from the water to stomp on her again. She rolled to her feet and blocked the kick with her left arm, smiling for a moment before another attacker kicked her in the side. She fell to her knees with a gasp.

                For a moment, the shadows paused.

                **_If you cannot beat shadows,_** the spirit asked, **_how can you hope to quench the fire?_**

Asami rose to her feet and raised her fists. Another shadow came. Then another. Then another. Then another. They never stopped.

                Neither did she.

xXx

                Freedom left the Inaq residence feeling pleased. He found an abandoned building to change out of his metalbender’s uniform and into the unremarkable garb of a beggar. He wrapped his face in a scarf, messed his hair, and went into the streets, fading into the background. He observed two men talking animatedly and settled down on a street corner beside them. They paid him no mind.

                “…you think she’s real?”

                “I don’t buy it for a second. Non-bender? Yeah, right. It’s just some new asshole like Amon!”

                “I’m telling you, man, my brother swears up and down that he saw her! Flying!”

                “Right, and I’m the Avatar. Look, let’s get going. This place stinks.”

                Freedom looked up and shot the man his very best amiable beggar’s smile. The man tossed him his used newspaper and Freedom muttered a rambling, hopeless thanks. The men left without further comment.

                Freedom got to his feet and started walking, reading the paper. The headline caught his eye and elicited a broad, manic grin. He flipped through the pages, idly examining the stories within, until he got to the last page. Something about the Fire Lady indicating she might come to Republic City to visit her husband, who was stationed with the United Forces army. Bumi had a reputation for going off on wild adventures, which everyone knew annoyed the famously powerful Fire Lady. They were madly in love, by all accounts.

                _Well_ , he thought, grinning beneath his beggar’s disguise. _That’s convenient._


	6. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> terribly sorry about the long wait. The long-scorned Princess Azula plots in the Fire Nation, as Freedom's own sinister machinations march forward; meanwhile, Asami is trying to figure out just what, exactly, it is that she's supposed to be doing.

                Azula hated this time of year, when everything was coming into bloom. The Fire Nation was absolutely beautiful in spring, as flowers sprouted from the rich volcanic soil. The world had no right to be this beautiful any more. Not now that Ty Lee was gone. She had loved the flowers so much.

                Her memorial was in the royal burial grounds, as Azula had requested. She had been surprised that Zuko had not only acquiesced, but even given her his full support. Not that he’d needed to. Ursa, Azula’s little niece, was Fire Lady now, and she’d always adored her aunt—even if, Azula thought with a wry grin, half the Fire Nation was still convinced that Aunt Azula was crazier than a firedancer. As much to her own surprise as anyone else’s, she still had her family.

                The word knifed through her heart. _Family_. She and Ty Lee had never been able to have children, of course. She had always been annoyed by that, somehow. Ty Lee’s legacy should have been preserved, the way Zuko’s and Mai’s was in their daughter. Now all Ty Lee had was an old woman making her way to a great ceremonial ground to pay her respects. Azula’s posture was as straight as she could manage, and given her age she was in remarkable health. In her left hand she held, delicately, a single bloom of the flowers Ty Lee had loved most. It had only been two years since her death, but Azula already felt the ritual familiarity in the gesture.

                Well, presumably Azula wouldn’t have very long left, anyway. She was eighty-four. Somehow, Azula had always expected that she would die first. Ty Lee had been so full of life. Her funeral had been grand, not out of scale or formality—which, as a consort to a Princess of the Fire Nation, there had been plenty of—but out of the sheer number of people who had arrived. Ty Lee had touched so many people. But she had always, Azula thought with pride, chosen Azula first.

                _Except once_ , a dark voice reminded her. She scattered the thought like leaves in the wind. She’d forgiven Ty Lee’s one indiscretion—betraying her at the Boiling Rock—long ago. She had even come to understand it. That was all in the past. So much of those early years, so long ago, had been filled with pain; but there had been good times, too, and after a very long time Azula found she had stopped hating things. She remembered lounging in her study, poring over some exhaustive military text, and Ty Lee returning with tea for both of them and some story about the Kyoshi Warriors. Ty Lee hadn’t stayed a warrior long, of course; she could never stay put. She was always dragging Azula around somewhere, doing something. Azula had enjoyed being dragged, though she rarely admitted it. After spending years in an asylum, monitored and prodded by trumped-up surgeons with bad attitudes, she had been desperate to be free.

                It had been her brother, actually, who had freed her in the first place. At first he’d come, pretending to be at the end of his rope, desperate for military or governing counsel. He would ask for Azula’s help, gently coaxing her out of her isolation and bitterness all the while. That had been cleverly done, which Azula _had_ admitted. Her brother had morphed into quite the mirror image of their uncle as he’d aged; he’d even grown fat. Ty Lee had always chastised Azula when she’d made fun of him for it.

                She passed through the hallway to the great Royal Tomb, flanked by two guards. She’d long since stopped bothering to wonder if they were for her protection as much as anyone else’s. Now she mostly enjoyed messing with them as much as was possible.  She might have been old, but she could still vaporize anyone who annoyed her. She hadn’t actually _exercised_ that talent in years, of course, but it was fun to toy around with the threat.

                She passed through the older memorials, suddenly deciding she didn’t want to be watched as she paid her respects to the woman she’d lived with, resented, envied, and finally, ultimately, loved. She snapped a finger and her guards stood at attention.

                “You may leave.”

                They looked uncomfortably at one another.

                “Uh, Princess Azula, we’re not supposed to—”

                “I promise not to start any rebellions in front of my wife’s tomb,” Azula replied acidly. The man backed away and elbowed his counterpart, darting back to the entrance. Azula smiled to herself as she continued on to Ty Lee’s memorial. It was nice to know she wasn’t losing her touch.

                Ty Lee’s memorial was a simple thing, a portrait, behind a small platform with some burning incense. Her tombstone, tall and austere in the Fire Nation royalty’s style, had her name carved into it. Azula knelt down and placed the flowers on the ground before Ty Lee’s picture, next to some fruit that the attendants had placed there in the morning.

                Azula stayed there for a long time, long enough that her tired old knees started to ache. She didn’t reminisce about anything specific; that would have been far too painful. Instead Azula just steeped herself in the knowledge of Ty Lee, a ghost of a memory that was no longer there. She remembered the way Ty Lee was always smiling, how she was always trying to get Azula to “lighten up.” Azula never had, but that had never stopped Ty Lee from trying. Absurdly she realized she was smiling. Maybe Ty Lee had succeeded after all.

                “Azula?” Her brother’s voice, calm and soft, intruded rudely on Azula’s reverie. The smile faded. “May I come closer?”

                “If you wish.” Her brother knelt down respectfully beside her. Despite his more portly shape, he was still graceful, carrying himself with easy, casual power. Like Azula, he had aged well. Azula assumed he had been visiting Mai’s memorial.

                “Sometimes I wonder if it is really worth going on without them,” Zuko said, his voice quiet. Azula frowned.

                “What would you rather do, die? That would be the greatest insult to their memory. To not carry on,” Azula said, her tone not as cold as she intended it to be. Zuko chuckled, sounding eerily like their Uncle. If it weren’t for those scars, you might be forgiven for mistaking Zuko for the old man. “We should live as well as we can in the time we have left.”

                “That sounds like something Ty Lee might have said.” Azula rolled her eyes. He was right, which was infuriating.

                “What do you want, brother?”

                “Only to pay my respects.” Zuko bowed and got to his feet. “Oh! One more thing.” He grinned apologetically. “I believe my daughter is missing that wild husband of hers. We might all find ourselves taking a trip soon.”

                “What makes you think I have any intention of leaving? I have some research I need to finish.”

                “Oh, come now. We both know you won’t say no when Ursa asks.”

                “I was thinking of visiting Republic City anyway,” Azula said with a shrug. She regretted it the moment it left her lips. It sounded petty, but she actually meant it; with all the news coming out of the world’s newest, supposedly greatest city, she’d been hunting for an excuse to visit. All of this violence bore several distinct characteristics that set questions buzzing in Azula’s head. The meaning of her visit long lost, she abruptly got to her feet. She would _not_ spend time in front of Ty Lee plotting and scheming.  “I’m going now.”

                Zuko turned to her and nodded respectfully.

                “I think I will go and visit Mai for a while longer.” Zuko had never gotten the hang of referring to Mai in the past tense. Azula would have pointed it out, but being near Ty Lee’s memorial quelled her tongue. Ty Lee wouldn’t have wanted her to do that. Instead, Azula bowed her head respectfully and began the long, slow walk back to her chambers. She ignored the people who walked by her. They were all young, and happy to ignore her as nothing more than an odd relic of an ancient time. That was just as well. She had planning to do.

                Even though she had been fully pardoned—she _had_ , after all, only ever acted in war—it was still a hassle for her to get an excuse to travel anywhere. Ursa’s pining over Bumi was as timely as it was expected. Azula doted on her niece, but she would never understand the woman’s infatuation with that sweaty, noisy man. Ursa and Bumi had been thick as thieves since they’d been twelve years old.

                _Then again_ , she thought wryly, _I wasn’t really so different._

She entered to her chambers, which were small but lavishly decorated, and returned to her desk, which was comparatively austere. Several newspapers, specially brought from Republic City, were piled there. The topmost one had a silhouette of a woman in a bat costume. Interesting as _that_ was, she thumbed through to other pages. She noticed that Asami Sato—wasn’t she the heir to that Equalist lunatic?—was hiring a new butler. How embarrassing, to have to send out in a paper for a servant. Azula _tsked_ and moved on to what she’d been looking for. A report of the earthquake; its size, its shape, and its timing, all of which were completely unnatural. Only one thing could have caused it, though no one seemed to notice.

Lin would have noticed, of course, but she wouldn’t talk. She of all people wouldn’t want to give that madman any ammunition. The Black Tiger—a name he’d never chosen for himself—had, evidently, returned. Azula flipped back to the report on the figure who was similarly being dubbed “The Batwoman.” Apparently she was a non-bender, using fantastic technology and superb fighting skills to harass criminals. Azula frowned at the itemization of the Batwoman’s tools, which was surely incomplete; a flying cape, advanced armour, and a grapple gun that let her leap around on rooftops like a metalbender. Where was she _getting_ these materials?

 _I asked the same question about the Equalists, and no one listened then_ , Azula thought bitterly. No one would listen to her now, either, excepting maybe her brother, who would only humour her suspicions. He seemed to be of the opinion that the world was in perfect harmony, and was blind to any suggestion to the contrary. Azula’s admitted history of paranoia didn’t help her case.

She flipped back to the page with the butler ad again.

 _Asami Sato_ , Azula thought to herself. She’d never met the girl, but she had met her father. He had seemed a respectable, decent sort at the time, though he’d turned out to be mad. Azula was disinclined to blame daughters for the insanity of their fathers, but she was still suspicious. Where _was_ the Batwoman getting her tools? With the recent devastation to nearly every major technologies corporation, there was only a very short list of possibilities. Asami Sato’s company, wounded as it was, was probably the best one.

 _So,_ Azula thought, an irresistible grin crinkling her lined face. She hadn’t plotted a thing beyond an archival paper in years. It felt good. _Asami Sato needs a butler._

xXx

                The past several weeks had been hard on Ky Lee. She’d started skipping school in the weeks following her father’s death, to no one’s surprise; in the aftermath of the earthquake, the schools had been temporarily shut down, anyhow. She hadn’t bothered returning when they’d opened up again. Her mother didn’t know, of course. Ky Lee couldn’t do anything around her mother without risking her worrying, or worse. It was infuriating. She hated seeing her mom always so close to breaking down, and she hated that she felt like she had to keep _hiding_ everything around her. Ky Lee just felt so _angry_. No one understood, or at least, no one wanted to understand.

                No one but Lao, anyway. In the past couple weeks he’d found her while she’d been skipping of school, practicing with her sword in an abandoned lot. At first she’d been worried that he’d go inform her mother; but instead he’d helped her practice. He showed her how to use a knife—better for when you didn’t have time to play fair, he’d said—and he showed her the basics of hand to hand combat. He said she was a natural. She couldn’t help but feel proud; Lao was obviously outrageously skilled, though she felt that he was always trying to hide it around her. Maybe he didn’t want her to feel bad.

                She knew why he was doing it, of course. He wanted to get her to open up. Talk about her feelings. He wanted her to change. They all did, but at least he didn’t treat her like he was afraid she was about to explode, or shatter, or both. By now she’d almost settled into a routine. She’d track down some new, abandoned place to train, and he would find her. He was eerily good at it. When she asked him how, he just smiled and said he was an old cop. Then he’d wink and say, “Being an earthbender helps.”

                If he’d been anyone else, she would have hated him for trying to take her father’s place. But he didn’t. He would ask about her dad, sometimes, in a little, innocent way that somehow didn’t hurt so much. He encouraged her to at least resume her formal sword training, so she could have her final performance. He said it might make her mother happy. Ky Lee agreed, and so every day after she was done training with Lao, she went to her sword tutor and trained with him. The old man was stunned by her rapid development. Ky Lee cheerfully said she was just practicing a lot, enjoying the thrill of a good conspiracy. Lao was the best teacher she’d ever had. He explained things simply, and led her fluidly from one lesson to another. Ky Lee hadn’t even realized she’d been training in hand-to-hand combat until he’d spontaneously suggested she toss away her sword and try to beat him with her fists. She’d won, though she knew he’d been holding back.

                After each session, though, he’d always find time to talk. Ask her about how she was doing. Get her to talk about herself. She told him how she’d never really fit in at school, where the benders led cliques and the pureblood descendants of this or that Nation followed like loyal dogs. Lao—who claimed to be mixed himself, despite his Earth Nation features—could relate, he’d said. She wasn’t really sure if he could, but she appreciated the effort. Even if he was lying, it was only because he wanted to help. Somehow Ky Lee had never doubted that.

                It was at the end of a particularly strenuous day of training that she decided to test how honest he really was. She was sweating and tired, after he’d instructed her in the finer elements of surprise and evasion. She’d spent the better part of the day ducking behind piled rubble and support beams in an old warehouse, while Lao had instructed her on where he could see her, where he couldn’t, what the normal person—what the usual criminal—would expect. This wasn’t really basic swordplay anymore, but it seemed leagues more useful than the rigid sword forms her old master taught her. Now came the time that they’d usually have a sparring match to try and test her. Wiping the sweat from her forehead with a cloth, she glanced at him with an eager grin.

                “I have a proposition for you, Officer Lao.” Lao’s eyebrows raised, which was about the most surprised Ky Lee had ever seen him.

                “Do you now?”

                “We both know that you’re about as honest in these little sparring matches as a fishmonger. Why don’t you really try and beat me?” Ky Lee shot him her most winning smile. For her efforts she earned a slight upturn of his lips, which on Lao’s taciturn face signalled vast amusement.

                “Ky Lee, I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive, it’s not really fair—”

                “I have distinct memories of an unfair world,” Ky Lee said, perhaps a little too harshly. The ghost of a grin faded from Lao’s face, to be replaced by sadness. That was the only thing about him that Ky Lee didn’t like. He always seemed to know when she was remembering her father, and he always seemed as hurt by it as she was. He’d claimed not to know him, but sometimes Ky Lee doubted that.

                “All right. I’ll stand in the middle of the room. You try and sneak up on me, and tap me with this in any vital area.” He tossed her an oval stone roughly as long as a dagger. “I won’t hold back this time. Promise.”

                “That better not be your usual bullshit,” Ky Lee said with a sharklike grin, running her fingers over the stone. It was astonishingly smooth, and fit happily into her hand. She retreated into the shadows and waited for Lao to stand in the middle of the room, as she’d said. She knew that he could pick up on the slightest tremor of the earth, that his seismic senses were astonishingly well-tuned; she’d never be able to sneak up on him on foot. As she couldn’t fly, she’d have to think of something else. She looked around. This particular building was more than a little bit unstable. It had probably been chosen as a result of what Ky Lee knew was an ill-advised fatalistic streak she’d developed, but now it worked to her advantage. There was one particular section of the ceiling that was visibly crumbling, supported by a single rotting support beam. It was far away from both Ky Lee and Lao, but if it came tumbling down….

                She threw a pebble at the ground, in the shadows of another pile of rubble behind Lao. She could almost _feel_ him rolling his eyes.

                “I can tell what is and is not an amateur sneakthief throwing a pebble to try and distract me, you know.” Ky Lee suppressed a laugh. Well, it had been worth it. In the moment the pebble had distracted him, she’d slunk through the shadows to get closer to the rotting pillar. She wasn’t sure if Lao had noticed her, but if he had, he wasn’t mentioning it. He started walking leisurely along the floor, moving in a slow, circular pattern. Ky Lee waited until he was facing away and picked up a large piece of fallen ceiling. He circled around again and Ky Lee held onto her piece of ceiling tile, sweat making her palms sticky.

                When his back was turned, she flung the tile with all the strength she could muster. He turned at the noise, but then whipped back to look at the tile as it struck the rotting pillar.

                Nothing happened.

                “Good try,” Lao said, sounding impressed.

                “You really know how to cheer a girl up,” Ky Lee muttered, getting to her feet and wiping her palms clean. Lao grinned apologetically. Ky Lee met him with her own half-crazy smile.

                “Something the matter?”

                “I’ve decided sneaking up on people is overvalued.” She picked up another ceiling tile and threw it at him. He deflected it almost casually, but Ky Lee used the time to vault over the pile of rubble and land at his feet, aiming a sharp jab at his kidney.  He caught her wrist reflexively, and sighed.

                “Well, I’d applaud your tenacity if one of my hands wasn’t preoccupied— _ow_.”

                Ky Lee had jabbed him in the thigh with the stone, concealed in her other hand. Lao was still holding her wrist, as though he’d forgotten, and Ky Lee couldn’t help but double over laughing.

                “The look on your face!”

                “There was no look on my face,” Lao replied wryly, which was, strictly speaking, true. Ky Lee could tell, though. He’d been genuinely surprised. That was the first time that had happened in their brief acquaintance. He let go of her wrist while Ky Lee all but cackled, sticking her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes. “Here, give me the stone.”

                “Wanna hide your shame, huh?” Lao seemed more amused than annoyed. That was somehow irritating. Instead, he took the stone in his hand and closed his fist over it. There was a cracking sound, and shards of stone fell away from it, leaving a beautiful stone knife in his hands. He handed it back to Ky Lee.

                “No. I wanted to reward you. No earthbender will be able to easily bend that knife. They won’t be able to snag it out of your hands, anyway. Its composition is a little more complex. I won’t bore you with the details.”

                “What was that? It all sounded curiously unlike you admitting you just got bested by a seventeen year old girl.” Lao sighed.

                “Yes, yes. You got me. Not quite in the way I suggested, but I suppose if you can take advantage of a situation that easily against a less friendly target, you’ll be fine. Congratulations.” He handed her the knife. Ky Lee took it with a wolfish grin, and then plopped down on the ground victoriously. Lao sat next to her.

                “So how have you been doing?” He asked. Ky Lee turned away.

                “I’m fine. I have my final demonstration tomorrow. I was thinking maybe you could come, since—” Ky Lee winced. Lao only nodded.

                “I’d love to come.” He put a hand around her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Your father would have been proud of you.”

                Ky Lee wasn’t sure that he would have been. He’d always valued her education. But Ky Lee had never been interested in letters and numbers.

                “Yeah.”

                “He would have. You’re not breaking down. Maybe you’re not doing exactly what he might have wanted, but you’re strong. You’re carrying on. That’s what matters.”

                “I just … I don’t _feel_ strong,” Ky Lee admitted. She leaned against Lao. Somehow, the thought that he might attempt something perverse was the furthest thing from her mind; he didn’t seem the type. She trusted him.

                “We never do, not when we’ve been hurt,” Lao said. “What matters is that you find some way—any way—to move forward. To beat the pain you’ve been feeling.”

                “I just—I wish there was something I could _do_. I’m not like Mom. I can’t just mope around and do nothing about it. I guess I want—I don’t know….”

                “Vengeance,” Lao muttered. He sounded preoccupied. He looked away from her. He was hiding something, and he was doing a much worse job of it than usual. This had to be something important.

                “Yeah. That. You know something, don’t you?” Ky Lee got to her feet and looked down at him. For the first time she realized that he was old. His face was young, and his hair hadn’t lost its colour, but somehow she could see it, in the way he carried himself. The moment passed, though, and he got back to his feet, tall, strong, and lazy with overwhelming skill.

                “I do,” Lao said. After a moment he did manage to meet her eyes. He had never been one to shy away from the truth. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but—”

                “Didn’t want to tell me _what_?” Ky Lee had taken a step towards him, obsession brooding in her sharp eyes. “Tell me.”

                “Ky Lee, I don’t want you to take the wrong idea, or get yourself hurt.” Ky Lee stared blankly at him. Lao sighed and sat down again. “Come down here. Sit. There’s no need to interrogate me. I’ll come clean, just promise me you won’t do anything drastic. At least not right away.”

                Ky Lee sat down.

                “Promise,” she said faithlessly.

                “I suppose you’ve probably begun to suspect this, but I’m—I’m not with the police force anymore.” Lao paused. He was right; Ky Lee had begun to suspect that. He turned away from her, a grief-stricken grimace warping his scarred face. He took a breath. “I couldn’t. Not after … not after what happened with your father. As I’ve said, I didn’t really know him. But I know he was a good man. The few words we did exchange, well, a disproportionate number of them were about you, Ky Lee. He cared for you. I suppose that’s why I felt I had to protect you and your mother. My father died stopping a tiger, and then there was no one. I didn’t want to see that happen to someone else.”

                Lao fell silent for a long time. Ky Lee prodded him.

                “You didn’t leave just because my father got killed. Something happened. What was it?” Her eyes had taken on a manic gleam. She had wide lips, inherited from her mother, but they were pressed into a thin line of impatience.

                Lao took another breath.

                “Do you know the Avatar’s boyfriend? Mako, his name is, he used to be a pro bender.”

                “I remember him from the tournaments, yeah. Isn’t he a cop now?” Ky Lee felt the slow, dark twist of suspicion settling in her stomach.

                “In training. He would be out of training, in truth, except Lin’s not sure what to do with firebending and waterbending police. Anyway, part of training—part of becoming a police officer—is going down to the ‘Hole for a month. The place where your father was working.”

                Lao paused again. Maybe he was waiting for her to speak. Maybe he was just trying to find the right words, to work this terrible confession out of him. Ky Lee’s breath came slowly, though her heart was racing. She didn’t want to miss a word. She couldn’t afford to. Who knew if Lao would ever be able to repeat this horrible secret again? It was obviously paining him.

                “I was working down there, too. Back then. It was procedure for one of the officers to show the trainee the ropes—take him down to the cells, show him how to use the carts, that stuff. Since Mako’s a firebender, he wouldn’t be able to operate the carts, so they still weren’t sure how or if they’d ever station firebenders down there—”

                “You’re rambling.” Lao never rambled. Somehow that unnerved Ky Lee more than anything else.

                “Right.” Lao wiped his hair out of his eyes, throwing his scars into shocking relief. Apparently a tiger-elk had done that to him when he’d been young, and the scars from claws too big for a child’s face had grown with his cheek until the scars were too big for a tiger’s paw. But she couldn’t imagine what else could leave such a terrible mark. “Anyway, Mako went down to one of the old cells with your father. I was down as well, just watching the station. Your father, and Mako … they never came back out.”

                The words hung like weights in the air. Ky Lee let out a breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding. Lao continued.

                “Later we found your father—well, you know how we found him. We found him and an empty cell. Mako claimed to have never been down there, afterwards, said he’d had to miss that shift to attend to some function with the Avatar. He hadn’t signed into the books. He was…” Lao’s face contorted into a grimace. “Clever. The criminal was an old thug who’d been in deep with the Triple Triads. Mako had worked with them when he was young. I can’t prove it, but I think busting that criminal out was his last favour to them. Maybe to shut them up. I don’t know.”

                “Who was he? The criminal Mako freed? Who?!” Ky Lee hadn’t noticed she’d gotten to her feet. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails were digging into her palms.

                “His name was Li. He’s dead.” Lao didn’t elaborate. Ky Lee didn’t ask, but she knew as certainly as she was standing there that Lao had killed him. _That_ had been why he’d left the police force. To hunt down her father’s killer. “I keep thinking, if I had known, if I had gone after them, or checked on them sooner … I’m sorry, Ky Lee. I am sorry.”

                Ky Lee barely heard him. She didn’t blame him. Blaming him would be stupid while her father’s _real_ killer was on the loose, living like a prince on Air Temple Island.

                “Mako. You’re sure it was him?”

                “Absolutely. I saw him that day. I thought he was a decent kid. He just seemed like he wanted to learn. At the time I thought he was just trying to get the hang of things, but he asked a lot about checking out the old cells.” Lao slammed his palm into his forehead. “ _Stupid_. I let my guard down just because he was a cop, or he was going to be one. I knew he had a record. If I’d seen what I should’ve seen—that he was a gangland orphan in nice clothes—I wouldn’t have just let him have free reign of the place.”

                Ky Lee collapsed on the rubble next to Lao and fell into a brooding silence. His words twisted in her head like a worm. Her father’s killer was still free, was still _alive_. Sure, Lao had taken care of the scumbag who’d done the deed, but what Mako had done was even worse. Her father had trusted him. Her father had just been doing his job.

                Ky Lee pounded her fists on the rubble and bit off a sob. She wanted to scream. She realized Lao was looking at her. Concerned. He was always so damn concerned.

                “How can you let him get away with this?!” Ky Lee screamed, blood thundering in her skull. She was on her feet again. Her sword was in her hand. She couldn’t account for either action. Lao closed his eyes.

                “I can’t. But you’re the only one who believes me. Commissioner Lin owes the Avatar her bending, and the Avatar either believes Mako’s lies or is complicit in them. The only way to stop him would be an assassination. You’ve got to ask yourself if you’re cut out for that kind of thing.”

                “You already killed the thug, Li.” Ky Lee whispered the words, like a prayer.

                “I did. But I meant ‘you’ in general. I’m too easily identified. They’re aware of my suspicions. If Mako or any of his family or friends see a man with three scars on his face coming towards them….” Lao gestured to the grisly feature on his left cheek. “They’d flee. Or try and stop me. I can handle a young firebender, and I might even be able to hold off the Avatar, but I’d never be able to take down all their security.”

                Ky Lee had serious doubts about that. Lao hadn’t done as good a job of hiding his skill as he thought. But at the same time, if he missed his one chance….

                _Why does it have to be him?_ The thought sliced through her mind like a dagger.

                _Why_ does _it have to be him? I won today with Lao’s stone. I’m ready. I can do it._ _I can do it._ She repeated the words in her head like a mantra. She’d only seen Mako once or twice, and then in full pro bending  gear, but she tried to bring the image back to her mind. He was a handsome boy, typically Fire Nation in appearance. She’d need to get a picture. That shouldn’t be too hard. He was public, after all. Famous.

                “Why does it have to be you?” Ky Lee voiced the thought aloud, almost as a challenge. She expected a violent rebuttal. Instead Lao only sighed.

                “I’m old, and experienced, and if I were to fail it would mean only the truncating of the last few years of my life. If you should fail … think of your mother.”

                Ky Lee fell into silence again. She tried to think of her mother. Tried to. But she could only think of her father, of the last thing he’d said to her. He’d promised to buy her a new sword, since, as he’d put it, she’d made him so proud at her last public performance. Everyone had been impressed, but no one more than her father. He’d always had her back.

                Now he was gone. He was gone and nothing could fix that. Nothing could make it okay. But something had to make it feel a little better. Something had to make this _burning_ in her chest go away. Something. Anything.

                She tried to remember Mako’s face again. She found she couldn’t. She told herself that didn’t matter. She had all the time in the world to find out what he looked like.

xXx

                The way Asami saw it, one of two things was going to happen in her near future. Either she was going to fire each and every single “advisor” that Sato Corp had, or she was going to kill them.

                _Or I’ll be a good little heiress and bear it_ , Asami thought begrudgingly. She was in another of those pale gray business rooms with large tables surrounded by little metal seats, like soldiers frozen mid-march. They were populated by men and women in dark formal attire, gesticulating violently at an innocent set of blueprints on the table.

                “Ms. Sato, you can’t be serious,” one man implored her, leaning onto the table. She wondered if she was supposed to be intimidated. She spent nearly every night visiting a cave inhabited by a bat spirit to fight its unending, shadowy offspring. That had a way of making people with titles suffixed “co-ordinator” seem smaller.

                “I can be. This building is so ostentatious we hardly have the word for it.” The blueprints were for a massive tower that would dwarf the tallest buildings in Republic City, to be built near the shoreline. The original plan, engineered by her father, had been to use it to establish an entire district in Republic City as a sort of base of Sato Corp operations. “We would scarcely need a quarter of the building’s floorspace for our operations. We can rent out the lower floors as cheap housing.”

                “Ms. Sato, such a thing would require a gross re-engineering plan—”

                “No more gross than the cost to relocate our assets and bring all our workers to this tower. We can rejuvenate an entire section of Republic City, _particularly_ in the wake of the earthquake. My father hardly cultivated goodwill when he handed the company to me. This will go a long way in convincing the people of Republic City that the Sato Corporation is their friend.”

                “Frankly, Ms. Sato, we’re not in the business of making friends.” This was an older man, one of her father’s. She wondered if he was one of the Equalist sympathizers. It had been impossible to root out the snakes among her father’s old board, perhaps because they were _all_ snakes. “We’re in the business of making money.”

                “We can’t very well make money if half the city is convinced our products are going to be used to tear it apart again. That’s the final word on the matter.” Asami stood up. This meeting had gone on long enough. “That will be all, everyone. You all have your duties. Go tend to them.” She waved a hand and the men and women got respectfully to their feet, their teeth clenched and their eyes glittering with icy hate. Asami took a breath and left the office, passing through cubicles with weary contempt. She had no idea just how sprawling her father’s empire had been. Now that it had fallen to her to run the thing, it was frankly mind-boggling. She wished there were someone she could trust to run the company; she’d thought Ibushi might, but he’d made it plain that he was an inventor, not a businessman. If he was, he’d told her, he would have been able to keep her father from throwing him in jail so easily.

                She left the glittering windows of the office building behind and got in her car, heading back to her father’s mansion. The streets were still barely navigable in the wake of the earthquake, but the road back to the mansion was fine. Asami noted with some level of apprehension that her father had built major Sato Corp buildings away from the streets above the ‘Hole. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

                She arrived at her house and parked her car, walking to the door and opening it herself. It was funny how she’d never noticed all those little acts involved in just arriving at home, when she’d had a butler to take care of things for her.

                She walked into the foyer to find Ibushi waiting for her. She blinked and he shrugged, smiling kindly.

                “I saw you approaching from my room. I thought I should come down anyway. Your friend, Bolin, stopped by while you were gone.”

                “Oh?” Asami hung up her coat and driving goggles.

                “Yes, he said he didn’t have much time, but he wanted to invite you to dinner with him, his brother, and the Avatar. It seems your friend and his brother are going to be promoted to active duty, so they’re celebrating.”

                “Right.”

                Ibushi paused, then asked,

                “So, are you thinking of attending? It’s quite the major milestone. As I understand it Bolin is something of a metal bending prodigy—only four weeks under Commissioner Lin’s tutelage and he’s already earned his armour.”

                “It’s not Bolin I’m worried about,” Asami muttered. She’d had no idea he and Mako were ready to join the force in full. She’d been busy in the past few weeks, since she—since the Batwoman—had rescued Lin and taken out Ms. Breeze. She’d been trying to learn more about this “Black Tiger” from the Bat Spirit, who she felt knew more than it was letting on, but she was having no success there.

                “What is it, then? This ghost of Commissioner Lin’s? The Bat Spirit’s shadows?” Ibushi asked pointedly; Asami had told Ibushi more or less everything about the Bat Spirit. “You’re working yourself to death, Asami. It might be nice to take a night out with some friends.”

                Asami stopped and looked at Ibushi. He had a point. She didn’t exactly feel exhausted, but more like … _frozen._ She was working constantly, but making no progress. She was training, had become faster and stronger than she’d ever been, but she didn’t know what _for_. She’d been arguing the same things with her father’s board of advisors for weeks. Maybe the man who had sunken the streets, who had done all that damage to Republic City had simply … left. Maybe Asami was just imagining things. She took a breath.

                “Perhaps you have a point.” She smiled and gave Ibushi a quick hug, which surprised him as much as it did her. The closeness of the hug made her realize that she was three or four inches taller than the stooped old inventor. The surprise reminded her that she hadn’t hugged anyone in months. “Thanks, Ibushi.”

                “Don’t mention it.” His hawk’s eyes were kind. “Bolin left me this, in the event that you did elect to join your friends. It’s the location and time, as I understand it.” Ibushi handed her a piece of paper. Asami opened it; she knew the restaurant. It was middling at best, but for Bolin and Mako, it would be as expensive as they could afford. She felt betrayed by the judgmental thought.

                She’d need something to wear. Nothing with bare shoulders, though; she didn’t need to go out in public showing off a physique to rival the Avatar’s. The Bat Spirit had been keeping her busy. She suspected that without its magic, such a rigorous training schedule would have been impossible, that she would have been simply overwhelmed by exhaustion. But she always left the cave feeling fresher than when she arrived. She got the feeling that the Bat Spirit was preparing her for something, but for what, it wouldn’t say. It had a maddening habit of imploring her not to be “blind”—whatever that meant—while shoving her into absolute darkness.

                Still, the thought of going out was nice. She’d been so busy swapping the moral grime of the boardroom with the more literal grime of fighting spiritual assailants in a cave that she hadn’t felt properly clean in weeks. But that could wait.

                “I haven’t been able to find a thing on this Black Tiger of yours,” Asami muttered. “He must be an expert at keeping a low profile—which wouldn’t surprise me—or he might really have gone. But we can’t afford to gamble that he has.”

                “I quite agree,” Ibushi said, though he sounded uncertain.

                “I think I need to go back out there. In the suit.”

                Ibushi nodded. If he had any protestations, he kept them to himself.

                “It’s where you left it. I’ve made some repairs and some slight improvements. You should be able to handle a vertical drop a little better now, and—” Ibushi stopped talking as the cook passed near them. He smiled genially at her as she walked by. “And I’ve refreshed your supply of crossbow bolts. But, if I might ask, what prompted this sudden decision?”

                “I wasn’t just listening to hot air at headquarters,” Asami explained. She smiled, sly as a fox. “There’s a warehouse in Old Earthtown near Ms. Breeze’s old hideout.  It’s funny, though—power’s still being sent to the building, and it’s being _used_. In all the fervour to get the city back to normal no one’s noticed, yet. But it means that someone’s holed up there. I’m going to go find out who.”

                Ibushi nodded.

                “Good luck.”

xXx

                It had been weeks since Asami had worn her armour, yet it already felt like a second skin. She felt the limitless possibility of what she could do, wrapped in the colours of night, equipped with the tools and skills she needed to fight whatever it was that was out there. She had climbed to one of the highest buildings in the city, ascending the fire escape in the rear of the building, out of sight. She’d saved her grappling arrows for later. No need to be too obvious at this stage.

                Even from here, she could see the early skeleton of what was going to become Sato Tower. It irked her that she couldn’t halt its construction, but even she had to admit it was impressive, even as a bare frame of metal. The elevator, a relatively recent invention, had been installed early so that workers could travel easily between floors. The height was dizzying.

                But she hadn’t gone there. That would have been a little too conspicuous. Instead, she’d travelled down to Old Earthtown, where honest people were trying to reclaim their lives while the prisoners enjoyed the shadow of Breeze’s iron grip. If her theory was right—and she prided herself on having pretty good theories—most of them were holed up in that last warehouse.

                She dialled up the sensitivity on the ears in her mask, trying to get a direct line on the warehouse. She heard muffled conversations and faint footsteps as people shuffled around. She dialled the sensitivity as high as it could go, and found that if she just twitched her head a little, she could listen in directly on a given conversation. She listened to brief snatches of conversation until she found what she was looking for—the boss.

                _“—should we do?”_

_“Hole up here for now, kiddo. Breeze might be gone, but all she had was special bending. Don’t get me wrong, that Eiko lady was really something, but she wasn’t anything special. Plenty of firebenders around. You kids stick with me and….”_

                Asami tuned out. She didn’t care what would happen if those “kids” stuck with him. All she needed to know was that he was the leader. She dialled back the sound on her headset to the normal setting, then leapt from the building she was on, gliding down towards the warehouse. She aimed for a large, open window in the room where the boss was.

                Feeling, frankly, more than a little eager to unleash some pent-up frustration, she dived through the window and rolled onto the floor. There were three men in the room, all of them looking absolutely stunned. Two of them gathered their senses and started moving through firebending forms. Asami responded by grabbing one man’s wrist and yanking it hard, pulling his face into a rolling smash with her other elbow. He fell like  a sack of bricks. The other man looked a bit more prepared, so Asami pulled back her fist and punched him in the face. The metallic plastic of her armour rang with a dull _thunk_ as her fist collided with his jawbone.

                “That felt good,” Asami muttered, her voice coming out as a dark growl through Ibushi’s voice modifier. The boss—whoever he was—got over his momentary panic and raised his arms to firebend, so Asami fired a crossbow bolt of explosive powder at him. He fell over and gasped for air, trying to summon fire and finding that he couldn’t. Asami grabbed him and brought him to his feet.

                “Tell me about the Black Tiger, or it gets worse,” Asami promised. The man blinked in confusion.          

                “The what? Are you nuts?”

                Asami picked up the shattered bolt from the ground and pressed the tip into his thigh.

                “Maybe I am. The Black Tiger. Everything you know. Now.” The man’s pupils dilated and his face became twitchy and mouselike with fear.

                “I swear! I’ve never heard of any Black Tiger, I—”

                “A man, then!” Asami shook him by the collar. “An earthbender. Strong enough to start the earthquake.” The man looked almost overwhelmed with relief.

                “Yeah! That I do know. Breeze was always going on about this guy. Said he was some crazy earthbender.”

                Asami could hear thugs approaching from outside the door. They had heard the crash and the bangs. She pressed the broken crossbow bolt into the boss’ thigh, hard enough to draw a bead of blood.

                “A _name_.”

                “Freedom! He’s called Freedom.”

                “Thank you.” Asami slammed her armoured forehead into the criminal’s less protected skull. His head swung back like it was on a pendulum, and his mouth lolled open. She left him on the ground and went back to the window. People were banging on the door to the room, now. She loaded her grappling crossbow and fired it into a building, swinging effortlessly into the night. She spread her wings and flew.

                _Freedom_ , she thought, pondering such an unusual name. _You can’t hide from me forever._


	7. Havoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension building in Republic City is boiling to a head, and old secrets thought lost forever are bubbling to the surface, screaming to be free.

_Chapter Seven_

               Asami woke the following day as beams of light slashed across her bed, filtered through the curtains by her window.  She groaned in displeasure and found herself sharply regretting her present lack of a butler. A simple breakfast would’ve been fantastic. Instead she pushed herself out of bed and stumbled through the task of cleaning and dressing herself. She had to be sure no one would suspect that she’d been out last night.

               She came down to the kitchens to find Ibushi was gone. Slightly unused to the prospect, she went about preparing tea alone. She took a sip.

               It was terrible.

               “Lovely,” she muttered. Freedom’s name kept returning to her mind, flitting through her consciousness. It meant nothing to her; she’d looked for any records of someone using such a bizarre name, but she’d come up empty. She’d never even laid eyes onthe man, only heard of him from Lin, Ibushi, and a handful of terrified criminals. How was she supposed to fight someone she’d never even _seen_? She almost had to laugh. The Bat Spirit probably would have found that hilarious, if it had had a sense of humour.

               There was a ringing at her door. It almost didn’t occur to her that she had to go and get it before the visitor rang the bell again. She raced down the stairs to the foyer and took a moment to compose herself before opening the door.

               Princess Azula was standing on the threshold, looking rather amused.

XXX

               “You really mean to do this, don’t you?”

               “Yes, Lao.”

               Lao’s eyes were stern and cold as they met Ky Lee’s, their sharp green filled with none of their usual kind glimmer. If Ky Lee wasn’t so obsessed with her goal, that look probably would have put any thought of rebellion out of her mind. She’d never suspected he could look so dangerous.

               But the moment passed. He sighed and shook his head.

               “I could stop you.”

               “You won’t, though.”

               Lao looked into her eyes.

               “I won’t.”

               “You know what this means to me,” Ky Lee whispered, clutching the hilt of her sword. She’d just finished her last sword performance. Lao had been there. Her mother hadn’t. She’d said she couldn’t bear it, not right now. That infuriated Ky Lee, for some reason. Now they were standing in that old abandoned warehouse in Old Earthtown, where Lao had given her the stone dagger.

               “That does not mean it is wise,” Lao said, though his heart didn’t really sound like it was in it.

               “I don’t care. Wisdom is a bad joke,” Ky Lee muttered. She drew her sword in one even stroke, the tip slashing near Lao’s face. He didn’t so much as flinch. He trusted her, but that didn’t matter; Ky Lee had learned that Lao never flinched unless he was pretending to.

               “Enough of this. Come here.” Lao turned around and walked over to a pile of rubble. He flicked aside a boulder the size of a man as though it were a pebble, and then extracted a briefcase from the earth. “I hid this here a few days ago. I thought if you decided to do something rash, it’d be best if I had this for you.”

               “I wasn’t aware luggage was a crucial assassination instrument.”

               Lao flinched, but Ky Lee wasn’t sure if he was pretending.

               “Don’t say it like that.” He opened the case. “This is Kyoshi Warrior make-up and traditional armour. You’d be surprised how well it can disguise your appearance. More to the point, it’s excellent protection and wonderfully flexible. If you’re going to take Mako down, you should wear this. Now, this is something special. I was hoping I’d be able to give it to you tonight.” He pulled a sheathed sword from the case. The sheath was beaten, battered, and … somewhat burnt.

               “Special.” Ky Lee repeated dubiously. Lao grinned and drew the blade with a flourish. It was pure black.

               “It was forged from a meteorite,” Lao explained simply. He handed the blade to Ky Lee.

               “This can’t be….”

               “Yes. That belongs to Sokka, hero of the Fire Nation war. I found it years ago, back when he was still alive. He was kind enough to let me keep it.” Lao’s face was inscrutable. “It’s an exquisite blade.”

               “You’re just giving this to me?” Ky Lee was a little stunned.

               “You deserve it. Your demonstration today was flawless, and you’ve shown remarkable skill in our sessions. Try it out.”

               “What, swing it around? You don’t just swing a sword like this around,” Ky Lee said flatly. Lao rolled his eyes.

               “Isn’t that what you were doing at your demonstration today?”

               “I think the demonstrations are stupid. I was only doing it for you. And my father.” Lao only nodded. Ky Lee unsheathed her old sword and handed it to him. “You’re right, though. I should try it out. If you’re nearly as infuriatingly competent as I’ve come to expect, you’ll know how to use that thing in about a thousand different ways.”

               Lao smiled and got to his feet, dropping into an expert sword stance, holding his blade above his head and angling it towards the ground. Ky Lee rolled her eyes.

               “Show off.”

               She charged at Lao and thrust at his midsection, only to find him blocking her strike and rolling away from it with cruel ease. He flicked her sword away and drove the point of his blade towards Ky Lee’s throat, before Ky Lee quickly ducked and aimed a punch at Lao’s kidney. He caught her hand with one fist and smashed the hilt of his sword toward Ky Lee’s face. She rolled beneath his legs, forcing him to let go of her wrist to leap backwards, righting himself and levelling his sword at her. She stood back up.

               “This thing is stupidly heavy, you know,” Ky Lee said, grinning gleefully. Her broad lips, the only trait she’d really inherited from her mother, made the smile look slightly manic. Lao shrugged his shoulders and tossed Ky Lee her old sword back.

               “You’re welcome to use either blade. I just thought you’d appreciate holding a piece of history.”

               Ky Lee sheathed both swords and hung each sheath on either end of her sword belt. She hooked her thumbs in the belt and whistled.

               “What do you think?”

               Lao didn’t comment.

               “I think that if you absolutely _insist_ on doing this,” Lao walked over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder, “Then you are ready. And it is the right thing to do. Your father’s killer should be punished. I’ll try to help as best I can. Get the Avatar and Commissioner Lin off your tail.”

               Ky Lee hugged him.

               “But before you do,” Lao said, surprising her by hugging her back, “Let’s go get something to eat at a nice restaurant. On me.”

               “You’re going to try to talk me out of this, aren’t you?”

               “Yes.” Lao was always honest with her, when it mattered.

               “You know you can’t. I have to do this.” Ky Lee’s grip became fierce. She was holding on to him for dear life. She didn’t know why.

               “When my father died, I was furious. At myself. At everyone. I wanted someone to blame. In my case, there was no one. Just a tiger. A force of nature. Nothing to be done.” Lao extracted himself from Ky Lee’s arms and looked her dead in the eye, his green eyes filled with sorrow. “I pray that vengeance will bring you peace, Ky Lee. You’re an extraordinary young girl, full of promise, and whatever you do, it’ll be incredible. I can tell, just from the short time I’ve known you.” Lao managed to smile. “You deserve to fulfill that promise with a smile on your face.”

               Ky Lee smiled too, in spite of herself.

               “Now come on,” Lao said. “I’m going to treat you to dinner. Think of it as a reward for all your hard work.”

XXX

               “Ms. Sato? It’s a pleasure.” The famously insane, elderly Fire Nation Princess extended a hand. It was as even as a stone in still water. Not knowing how else to respond, Asami took the hand and shook it. There was no mistaking Princess Azula, not for anyone who bothered to pay attention. She was regally dressed, but not too richly. Her black robes were trimmed with red fabric rather than gold, and her hairpiece was only a very expensive ceramic. She had aged remarkably well, and her eyes had lost none of their fierce intensity. Her hair was white as the moon.

               “Yes, certainly,” Asami stammered. “Um, please, come in.”

               “You’ll know why I’m here, of course,” Azula said, as Asami shut the door behind her. Asami froze. “The butler advertisement.”

               “ _What?_ ” Asami failed to mask her surprise. Azula seemed entertained.

               “If you get to be my age, you’ll enjoy doing that to young people. I don’t suppose you’ll invite me in for an interview?”

               “Um, yes, absolutely,” Asami gasped. She walked the Fire Princess—suddenly _very_ aware of her reputation as a firebender of unnatural skill—into the kitchen and gestured towards a seat, shuffling away the remnants of her poor breakfast as quickly as possible. She could scarcely recall being so mortified. She barely had time to think,

               _What is she_ really _doing here?_

               “Impressive,” Azula commented idly, sitting with perfect posture. Her hands were crossed in front of her, patiently. Asami took a seat opposite her.

               “I’m afraid I hardly expected someone of your, erm, regal bearing.”

               “They never do, somehow.” Azula’s eyes hadn’t left Asami’s for a moment. “I assure you I’m familiar with all the duties of running a household. Making beds, preparing meals, tendering accounts, that sort of thing. My late wife was quite the child well into her twilight years. She required not inconsiderable housekeeping.” Azula arched an eyebrow at the memory, though Asami thought she saw the ghost of a smile playing around her lips. Asami paused.

               “It seems odd, I suppose, that a writer as distinguished as yourself would want to take up such a demanding position.” She thought that was rather tactful.

               “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear you call me ‘writer’ rather than ‘disgraced Fire Nation relic,’” Azula replied acidly, though Asami wasn’t sure that the acid was for her. “So, you’ve read some of my work? What did you think?”

               “Your histories are excellent,” Asami said quickly. “I particularly enjoyed your rediscovery of pre-Sozin Fire Nation history. We lost so much.”

               “That tends to be the popular one, yes. Tell me, what about the military strategy? Or is a fawning heiress such as yourself above such things.”

               “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure,” Asami said carefully.

               “You’re lying. I didn’t think it’d be that easy to spot. Tell me what you really thought.”

               “I liked _The Sieges of Ba Sing Se_. The way you conquered it was brilliant. ‘Know where an enemy places their faith and strike at that point. If there are two such places, you need only illustrate the difference in location.’ A useful, ah, business strategy.”

               “Oh, don’t be modest. I’ve heard all about your exploits with the Avatar.”

               “I didn’t know that was public knowledge,” Asami replied breathlessly. Something about Azula’s unrelenting stare was exhaustively intimidating.

               “Oh, you have to dig past a dozen headlines detailing the Sato family’s fall from grace, but it’s there if you look. You’re rather skilled. Speaking of which,” Azula grinned, savouring the moment. “How _did_ you manage to rescue Chief Lin, anyhow? That would have been difficult for a non-bender, I imagine.”

               “Pardon?”

Azula sighed.

               “Do you mind if we skip past the part where you pretend not to be the Batwoman? I lack some of the patience I was famous for in my youth.”

               Asami had no idea how to respond.

               “For both of our sake I pray you’re normally a bit quicker on the uptake. I know who you are. You’re lucky that no one is asking the right questions about where you get your technology, or they would have come to the same conclusion that I did. No one else has the resources to put all that technology together, and few others have as much to prove as you do. My only question now is what are you trying to do? Is this just some personal crusade? Or do you really want to serve justice?”

               Azula tented her fingers and stared into Asami’s eyes, raking into her soul. Asami took a moment to catch her breath.

               “I want to show the world that non-benders can protect their city. That we can be as heroic as the Avatar. That we can and will stand up for the innocent in this city, whether those people are benders or non-benders.” Asami crossed her arms and stared back at Azula, for the first time feeling like she’d regained her balance. “So yes, I serve justice, if that’s what you want to call it. What do you want to do about it?”

               “I want to help you. That’s why I’m here. The Fire Nation Royalty will be coming in a few days—you’ve heard all about that I’m sure—and they’ve brought half the Navy in tow as a bodyguard. This City, despite your valiant efforts, is coming to a boil.” Azula quirked an eyebrow, as though inviting Asami to interrupt. She didn’t. “People are terrified, between the fallout from Amon’s coup and the earthquake and Ms. Breeze’s temporary power grab. You are aware that all this—maybe even Amon’s rebellion, I don’t know—has been orchestrated by one man, yes?”

               “Yes,” Asami said, grateful for the chance to demonstrate she wasn’t a slack-jawed idiot. “A criminal formerly known as the Black Tiger, though he’s now calling himself Freedom. Ms. Breeze mentioned him—seemed to have a grudge—and Lin knows him, but she won’t talk.”

               “That doesn’t surprise me,” Azula murmured. “This is what I’m offering. You take me on as your butler—a function I will dutifully perform in what time is left to me—and involve me in your little crusade. I want to know everything. In exchange, you gain my own talents and advice.”

               “Why would you want to do that?” Asami asked, all pretence of innocence gone now. Azula seemed pleased.

               “Well, for starters, it’s the only way I’ll truly be able to get away from my family. They can hardly demand the richest woman in the world surrender her butler because they’re uncomfortable with letting a pardoned woman off of her leash. I’ll finally be able to do something useful again. This may come as a shock, but old people get bored, too. I’d like to accomplish something in my final years.”

               “What’s to say they won’t demand I rescind your employment anyway?”

               “Oh, that’s easy. You’ll funnel some money along the line to ensure that a story leaks into the newspaper about your hiring of me. No Fire Nation Royalty will dare _publically_ reprimand one of Republic City’s most prominent non-bender citizens, not with the city still fermenting in the wake of Amon’s rebellion.”

“Clever,” Asami muttered. She supposed it was that fierce mind that had enabled her to conquer Ba Sing Se without a single death.

“Besides, I haven’t yet told you the sweetest part of our bargain. The part that you can’t refuse.” Azula smiled with the slow grace of a cat. After a moment Asami realized Azula was going to make her ask.

               “And what part is that?”

               “I’ll tell you the story no one else will tell you. I’ll tell you the story of the Black Tiger, of Freedom. I’ll tell you because I was there, because I’ve seen what he can do, and because no one else will stop him. And you’ll listen, I hope, because if you don’t, he’s going to kill you.”

               There was a distinctly uncomfortable silence.

               “How can I trust you?”

               “When I was a little girl, my father, my teachers—my entire _country_ —assured me that it was the divine right of the Fire Nation to dominate the world. So that’s what I helped happen. I was a child. But my father’s legacy stayed with me for the rest of my life. That’s what happened to me. Do you want it to happen to you, too?” Azula arched a snow-white eyebrow. “You’ll trust me because our stories are the same, and because you need me as much as this city needs you. I happen to agree with you, by the way.”

               “What about?”

               “It is high time the people of this city stopped idolizing an Avatar who barely understands the world. Non-benders need to demonstrate that the world belongs to them as much as it does to anyone else. But more to the point, you need to stop the Tiger—or Freedom, or whatever—because he won’t try and rule Republic City like Amon, or conquer it. He will burn it to the ground and laugh while he buries the ashes of your loved ones.”

               Asami got to her feet and went to pour herself a glass of water. Azula waited in silence as Asami took a long, thirsty drink.

               “All right. But if we’re going to do this, we should do it someplace safe. And you should meet Ibushi, anyway.”

               “Ibushi Makarai? We’ve met, before his incarceration.”

               “Good, then this will be simple. Follow me.”

               She and Azula walked to Asami’s car, in silence. Azula had a faint smile on her face, clearly enjoying herself.

               “This is the first time in a long time that I’ve been anywhere without guards. In the castle they keep them on me under the pretext of protection. Old habit, I suppose, to keep an eye on me.”

               “So they never forgave you?” Asami asked as she pulled on her driving helmet. Azula smartly settled into the passenger’s seat.

               “Oh, they forgave me. They just never forgot. It’s hard, isn’t it? Living with a past that no one will forget.”

               Asami only looked forward and drove on.

               “Ibushi is already at the Lair.”

               “‘The Lair?’ And they called me dramatic,” Azula chuckled.

               “If you can think of a better name, I’m all ears.” Asami turned down a deserted backroad that would take them to the Lair without passing under too many eyes.

               “What, you never considered calling it the Batcave?”

               Asami actually laughed at that one.

               “I’ll put it on the list.”

               When they arrived, Asami guided them both into the warehouse and quickly brought them into the underground complex. If Azula was impressed or surprised by any of this, she kept it to herself, instead crossing her hands in her robes and glancing at the various paraphernalia in the Lair with polite interest.

               “It must be useful to have such a skilled inventor at your disposal.”

               “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” They came to Ibushi’s workshop to find him bent over a chemistry apparatus, distilling something or other. He raised a hand to beg their silence, which they provided. After a moment, he extracted some bubbling liquid from a vial and added it to a powder, apparently pleased.

               “Well, this is a surprise,” Ibushi murmured, his sharp eyes darting to Asami’s.

               “An honour to make your acquaintance once more, Ibushi Makarai,” Azula said formally, inclining her head by way of a bow. “I’m pleased to find you out of bonds.”

               “And I you,” Ibushi said simply. Azula raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

               “Now that we’ve reunited, didn’t you have a story to tell?”

               “Of course. Is there perhaps somewhere that does not smell of sulfur where we might discuss this?”

               “Right this way,” Ibushi interjected, leading them to a table at the far side of the workshop. Asami noticed Azula’s eyes narrowing slightly when she saw Ibushi leaning heavily on his cane. They sat around a plain steel table, both Asami and Ibushi staring expectantly at Azula. Azula had tented her finger sin front of her face, apparently enjoying the tension.

               “So. You want to know about the Black Tiger? I suppose it’s best to start with his birth name.” A sharp intake of breath from Asami interrupted Azula. The Fire Princess smiled and continued slowly, languorously, enjoying every moment. “His name is Lao.”

               Azula took another pause, her smile fading into cold contempt. Asami could feel the sweat on her brow.

               “His name is Lao Bei Fong.”

XXX

               Lin sat alone on the sparse bed in her apartment, taking a deep breath. Her metal armour stood erect in her wardrobe, hanging on a bare wire frame. The empty armour seemed to stare at her silently, without looking, the way her mother did when she’d done something wrong. She missed her mother down in her bones, in the soul aching way that would never really fade. She missed being too young to know better.

               In one fluid motion, Lin Bei Fong stood up and threw out her arms. Her suit of armour flew out of the closet and wrapped itself around her body, the cool comfort of earth-rich metal like a gentle kiss on her skin. Metalbending was the last thing she really had of her mother’s. She had trinkets, sure, but her mother had always been contemptuous of heirlooms. Toph Bei Fong had only cared about what she could feel in her hands or hear. She had only cared for what was real.

               Darkness lurked at the corner of her mind, threatening to poison her memories. She abruptly left her apartment and went for her car. She had a dinner to attend. A part of her bucked at the thought of spending time with two future officers who really weren’t any more special than any other new recruits: but they were the Avatar’s friends, the Avatar _had_ formally invited her, and Lin had developed a soft spot for Bolin while teaching him, besides. She thought he’d make one of the invaluable police officers who did good work on the street without ever giving thought to detective work. Mako would probably try for detective. He’d be one of the assholes the department needed to solve cases. If Lin gambled, she’d put money on his future drinking problem.

               But then again, maybe not. Raising your brother would demand a certain responsibility. Perhaps Lin had grown a little too jaded.

               It was nearly time to go to the dinner, and Lin hadn’t been late for anything in years. She pulled on her coat and left.

XXX

               “ _Bei Fong?_ ”

               “Bei Fong,” Azula repeated tonelessly. “He’s Lin’s older brother. By a year. Toph never did say who their father was, if he was the same man. I find it hard to believe they could have identical ancestry, but you never know. I’ve been known to put too much stock in bloodlines.”

               Asami bit any number of questions back. She didn’t dare interrupt.

               “The first time I met him,” Azula said, with the air of someone gathering the momentum required to begin telling a story, “He was only twelve years old. Toph was visiting the Fire Nation with her family. The Avatar’s entourage had already arrived, so the whole gang was out waiting in the coutyard for Toph’s little group to complete the reunion. I’ll never forget how they arrived; no guards, transports, or anything. Just a short but formidable woman clad in steel armour, flanked on either side by skinny little children. Lao had long hair, unruly but clean, while Lin had a cut in imitation of her mother. Neither had those scars yet, by the way.”

               Azula took a breath.

               “They all gathered and exchanged greetings. I watched with Ty Lee from a safe distance. I never saw him up close, but while Lin was eager to be around her young companions, Lao always seemed distant. Like he was bored of them. Toph never seemed to know what to do with him. She was certainly more comfortable with Lin, you could see it a mile off. She introduced them both with pride, though. Lin wanted to demonstrate her earth bending—the Avatar’s children had upon their arrival, as well, and once she got wind she simply had to. She was quite the spitfire, actually.” Azula smiled at the memory.

               “Well, she demonstrated some earthbending in a clearing in front of the courtyard. It was all rather impressive for an eleven year old, don’t mistake me; she wasn’t as skilled as her mother had been at that age, but she was quite good. Lao watched and smiled; he said something encouraging, I can’t remember what. By all accounts he seemed a sweet boy, just a little withdrawn. I think it was Ursa—Zuko and Mai’s daughter—who started demanding that Lao show off his bending, and of course the other children chimed in, so he stood in the middle of the courtyard where Lin had given her demonstration. I remember the first thing he did was to clear away the little pillars his sister had made. Very detail-oriented. At the time I rather appreciated it.

               “So then he pressed his palm to the earth. After a few seconds we all began to feel embarrassed, before he just started pulling this huge chunk of black iron out of the ground, the size of a man’s head. He held it out in front of him, and then let it float in the air, just above his fingertip.” Azula’s face was taut, as though she were carefully keeping it in check. It made Asami think uneasily about how this woman had, at the age of fourteen, brought a city to its knees and nearly killed the Avatar. How had she forgotten that?

               “We all started to applaud, once we regained our senses, but he wasn’t done: he swung his arms and stamped on the ground and seven pillars erupted in a circle around him. As they did, the clump of iron split into seven spikes that shot into each pillar. Then he swung his arms back towards himself, and the pillars began to sink as the spikes shot back into a clump in front of him. He reached out with his hand,” Azula held out her hand, as though cupping a wine glass, “And grabbed the clump of spikes at its vertex. Then the points melted off until he was holding a sphere, and he walked up to Ursa and handed her the sphere. By now everyone was quiet. The sphere started to unfurl until the Princess was holding a metal flower. Lao just stood there, waiting. No one said anything, so he started walking towards the palace. He just walked, past the Avatar, past the other children, nearly past the Fire Lord himself. Zuko managed to find his voice and made some joke or another. He was already putting on weight by then. Do you know what Lao did?”

               Asami blinked and shrugged.

               “Obviously not.”

               “He just looked at him. Looked into the Fire Lord’s eyes for just a moment too long and asked, ‘Where will my family be staying?’ So Zuko laughed and told a servant to go escort Toph and her family to their quarters. That was the first time I ever saw Lao Bei Fong. He walked beneath our noses, passing for human in broad daylight.”

               “Did no one suspect anything?” Ibushi thought aloud. Azula rolled her eyes.

               “No. We all thought that Toph had been blessed with one supremely odd but uncommonly gifted son, and one mercifully normal daughter. I suppose we weren’t wrong.”

XXX

               Lao escorted Ky Lee into a back corner of the restaurant, a humble but fine dining place. He could feel the rumbling in the earth, the slight echo that marked the presence of a particularly powerful earthbender. It was amplified by the presence of two others—the Avatar, and someone else. Lin was nearby, perhaps just behind one of the curtained, private booths reserved for the rare celebrity of the Avatar. Lao smiled. Ky Lee assumed it was one of his meaningless kindnesses.

               “So, what’ll we be having?” Lao asked cheerfully. He took a corner booth, choosing a seat where his back was to most of the people in the restaurant. Ky Lee sat opposite him, staring out at the crowd.

               “I’ll have whatever you are,” Ky Lee muttered. Lao frowned.

               “Ky Lee, please.”

               “Please what? What do you want me to do, act as though I’m out having dinner with my father? Because I’m not! You’re not him!”

               Ky Lee’s voice had raised to a near-yell. Lao crossed his hands and tried to look forward.

               “I know that, Ky Lee. You just—well, you remind me of myself, when I was younger. Frustrated. Angry. Without direction. I know I can’t tell you what to do. But I can try to help. I owe that to your father.”

               Ky Lee crossed her arms in a huff. “I know. I’m sorry.” Her face was screwed into a deliberate frown. Lao’s expression was kind.

               “You don’t have to be, Ky Lee.”

XXX

               “The rest of the festivities progressed as normal. I remember the other children had all manner of quaint adventure, but Lao seemed to slip out of sight. I’d find him asking the servants about their duties, or examining the floorboards. He was warned about me, of course, but he always seemed curious. He knew better than to show too obvious an interest in Zuko’s crazy, evil sister. Not publically, anyway.”

               Azula’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

               “One night, it was late, and Ty Lee … was out.” They’d been in a fight. The momentary lapse in Azula’s expression, the brief sign of pain on that tight, controlled face, said as much. “I was reading, trying to keep myself occupied. I heard something at my window—this was a fourth-storey window, mind you—and saw him standing there, on a pillar of earth no thicker than my arm. He slipped through the window and walked towards me without a word. I asked him what he was doing there. He replied:

               ‘I wanted to see you.’” Azula did an eerily accurate impersonation of a young boy’s voice.

               “I asked him why. He said he was curious about me. I’ll never forget what he said next.” Azula cleared her throat and mimicked Lao’s young voice again. “‘I was wondering if you were someone like me. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? You’re just a scared little girl.’ I didn’t even have time to respond with indignant rage before he slipped back on the pillar. I think I said something about calling the guards. He just laughed at me and said: ‘Do you know what they call your brother? They call him Zuko the Wise. Do you know what they call you? Azula the Mad. No one will care what you say.’ Then he slipped away from the window and I didn’t see him again. Not for fifteen years, before the Avatar enlisted me to stop him from rampaging across the countryside.”

               Asami waited, but Azula didn’t say anything.

               “And? What happened then?”

               “Nothing good.”

XXX

               Korra didn’t like that they’d needed a private booth, but Lin was obsessive about security measures. She was honestly surprised Lin had decided to come along, since it might risk displaying favouritism, but the famously stoic Police Commissioner remained as imperceptible as ever. They were seated around a circular table, with five seats—Korra was sitting next to Mako, who was next to Bolin. Lin sat next to Bolin, chattering to him about his metalbending training. Normally, Korra would’ve been fascinated by the discussion.

               “Where _is_ Asami?” She asked aloud. Bolin and Lin stopped their discussion abruptly. Mako took her hand.

               “I’m sure she’ll be along,” Mako said, somewhat rigidly.

               “I hope so,” Korra said, staring into her bowl of noodles with disinterest. She’d been hoping to see Asami again, to—she didn’t know, apologize? Try and just talk with her? She didn’t really have much of a plan. It had been eating away at her, though, as she’d been listening to Tenzin’s spiritual sermons, about unity and balance. She’d been trying to learn as well as she could, but mostly she just felt guilty, that she wasn’t the Avatar she should be. She kept thinking of how heartbroken Asami had been when Mako had broken up with her. How they hadn’t spoken in months. How no one but Bolin had even bothered to check in on her.

               _I’m the Avatar, and I haven’t done anything._ Somehow, she felt that if she could just talk to Asami, be honest with her, she could start doing things right. The Batwoman wasn’t helping things, either; it should have been the _Avatar_ who saved Commissioner Lin. Instead it had been some woman in a mask.

               _Some symbol I’m turning out to be_.

               “Hey, Korra? Why aren’t you eating?” Mako was worrying, which was about as surprising as the dawn. Korra smiled at him. He did look rather dashing in his new police uniform—so did Bolin.

               “Nothing. I was just hoping to talk to Asami, that’s all.”

               “Me too!” Bolin added cheerfully, slurping down some noodles. He smacked his lips and sighed in satisfaction. “I just hope she can find time to come here. I swear, she’s working herself to death. Have you seen that tower her company’s building?”

               “Kind of hard to miss it, Bolin,” Mako said, not unkindly.

               “It’s huge! I don’t think she’s very pleased about it, actually. She should probably get out more.”

               Korra reclined in her chair and poked at her soggy noodles. She couldn’t help but agree. She couldn’t shake this nagging doubt, this feeling that she was responsible. Tenzin was always imploring her to think through the consequences of her every act—to see not only a spark but the flame it would birth. She’d been so convinced Mako was her soulmate—still was, actually—that she hadn’t thought about the consequences of her actions. When she’d first tried to expose Amon, she hadn’t even thought _then_. She wasn’t even sure why Aang had restored her bending, if she was such a poor—

               “Hey, Korra, is something wrong?” Mako again. He was sweet, if a bit overbearing. Korra forced a smile.

               “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

XXX

               “I travelled out from the Fire Kingdom and joined the Avatar’s little band. It was the Avatar, Toph, Katara, and myself. We searched the countryside for signs of him, but he hadn’t been discreet. He was staying in the rubble of a small town he’d demolished. No one knows its name anymore. He was remarkably polite about the whole thing. When we did find him and fight him—” Azula shuddered. “I had never seen such bending. Were he not trying to kill me it would have been mesmerizing. We only stopped him because Toph cried out to him and … he stopped. For a moment. So I shot him in the chest with lightning.”

               Asami didn’t know what to say to that.

               “It should’ve killed him, but he raised a wall of earth in time. The lightning still blasted through the earth and knocked him out. Frankly I’m surprised he survived even then. I poured everything into that strike.”

               Azula adjusted herself in her seat, and took a breath. She was clearly enjoying having such an audience—Asami and Ibushi were captivated. Her eyes hadn’t left Asami during the entire tale; luckily, Asami had a pretty practiced poker face.

               “Now the important part. The part you _need_ to know. The first thing Aang did when Lao fell was to try and take away his bending—but it went wrong. Energybending is a difficult process, and Lao was … more than ordinarily difficult. A blast of black light shot from Aang’s eyes and he fell, as defeated as Lao. So Toph had the Hole built, to hold Lao, and with the help of the White Lotus they covered up the entire story as best they could. They couldn’t afford to let anyone know that the Avatar spirit had been tainted by that monster.”

               “What do you mean, tainted?” Asami asked, her voice faint with growing horror. Azula’s eyes narrowed.

               “I mean that the Avatar spirit has been touched by Lao’s. Aang let him in, and he’s been lurking there like a tiger. I’m no expert on the spiritual realm, but I know this: Toph Bei Fong would not have covered up the existence of her son just because he was a conventional kind of monster. There had to be something more, and this is it. He’s back now to get vengeance, or whatever passes for vengeance in that twisted mind of his. I think it’s something between him and his sister—you’d have to ask her—but there is one thing I know for certain. Korra is not safe, and a tiger will always take the most vulnerable prey. It’s no secret the Avatar’s been all but in hiding under the guise of Tenzin’s ‘training.’ No doubt it’s Lin and Tenzin’s way of keeping her safe.”

               Ibushi drew in a sharp breath.

               “Asami, weren’t you supposed to be getting to a dinner party? With the Avatar and your friends? A very _public_ dinner party?”

               Asami stared in horror, then leapt to her feet. She ran for her suit, her heart racing, her blood ice cold in her veins.

XXX

               As she ate, Ky Lee was aware of Lao’s eyes, always watching her. His gaze never left her face, not even as he ate his own meal. The food was decent. She let her chopsticks fall with a clatter when she was done.

               “Is there something on my face I should be aware of?” Ky Lee asked dryly. Lao closed his eyes and opened them again. His expression was impossible to read.

               “No.” He wiped the corners of his mouth despite the absolutely impeccable state of his lips. He folded his hands in front of him. “Ky Lee, I’m going to tell you something on the condition that you promise not to react strongly. Is that acceptable?”

               “No, but out of the goodness of my heart I’ll play along.” Ky Lee flashed an irritated smile. He didn’t seem amused.

               “Good. The Avatar is here. Along with Commissioner Lin and two police recruits.” Ky Lee’s blood froze.

               “He’s here, isn’t he,” Ky Lee whispered.

               “Yes. Now listen to me— _listen to me_ , dammit,” Lao said, and for once he seemed out of sorts. He hadn’t expected this. Or … had he? Ky Lee had her suspicions. But Lao had her trust. He was the only one who had earned it. “You cannot take them. Not now. They’re too powerful, they’re too public, and Mako is too well-protected. But this is also,” Lao said, beginning to sound … excited? “An opportunity. One that has fallen into our lap. So here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to leave this place. You’re going to slip into the shadows, the way I’ve taught you to. Once I know you’re out there, safe, and unseen, I’m going to start a fight. I’ll probably lose. Maybe die.” Ky Lee’s eyes went wide. She felt her heart racing.

               “You can’t.”

               “I may,” Lao said honestly. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve lived long enough. Long enough to know that I can be beaten; long enough to know I can’t stop you. All I can do is try and make sure you still have a future. So that’s what I’m doing. Don’t argue. Go, now. Shadow Mako when he leaves, to wherever he has to go. You have the Kyoshi make-up with you, yes?”

               “Yes, just enough to—”

               “Good. Now go.”

               “Lao, I—”

               “This is what you want?” Lao’s face was as guiltless as ice.

               “Yes,” Ky Lee whispered.

               “Then go.”

               Ky Lee tried to say something, but somehow she couldn’t. That face, so kind, so familiar, so gentle, was now pitilessly blank. His eyes were the sharp green of a blade of grass after the rain. The scars on his face somehow seemed more prominent than before. They were clearer.

               “All right. Lao, thanks.” Ky Lee didn’t know what else to say. She got up and thought of hugging him, but at the last minute just left. The thought that this might be the last time she ever saw him was eclipsed by the burning hatred deep in her stomach. She walked out of the restaurant. Found a spot where she’d be able to observe all the exits from the place. Figured out how to get there surreptitiously. She slipped into the darkness, just the way she’d been taught. By Lao.

XXX

               Asami flew above the streets of Republic City, not caring to hide herself, ignoring the gasps as more and more people leaned out of their windows to see the Batwoman flying overhead. Her masked face scowled down at them as she flew above, disinterested, grappling from one building to the next, leaping onto the wind and spreading her cape like a grim parasail. She was making a beeline for the restaurant, where Korra would be in public for the first time in months. How could she have been so _blind_? How could she not have realized that Tenzin wasn’t just boring Korra with training, he was protecting her.

               The Bat Spirit had been right, Asami realized. That was annoying.

               She couldn’t think about that now, though. She couldn’t afford doubt. The Avatar was more than just a brazen water tribe girl, more than just an earthbender or airbender. She was a symbol, an icon of the unified world, even here in Republic City. If she fell, if Lao could do something to destroy her or even destroy the Avatar forever, then who knew what would happen. It would be a disaster. The spirit of Republic City—literally of the entire world—would be broken.

               _I can’t let that happen._

XXX

               Lao finished his meal neatly and wiped his mouth. He could feel the vibrations of Ky lee’s footsteps, passing to him through the dust reverberating through the floorboards. Earth was everywhere, if you knew where to look, how to hear its song. Ky Lee was gone now, into the street; the dust had stopped ringing with her presence. He could feel each person in that restaurant. The Avatar, his sister, their two companions … they were in the back, behind a curtain, out of the public eye. Lao smiled. He wondered if his sister could feel him there; obviously not. She had never quite realized that; for her the earth was only a second sight, another tool. Like the person with all their senses each one she possessed was weakened by the blindness of sight.

               He picked up a metal chopstick in one hand, rolling the metal over his fingers. It sang in his grasp.  Every other metalbender, learning still from his mother even after her death, sought to find the earth and push it apart within the metal. How could they not see that the metal itself came from the earth, that it could be willed and coaxed as easily as sand or stone, if only you knew its character? He didn’t care, really. He tapped the side of the metal rod and it rang pleasantly. He focused his will on it and tightened his grip. One end began to drip and melt as the blunt rod filed itself down to a microscopic point, the excess metal sliding harmlessly over Lao’s hands. It pooled onto his plate and made a little reflective puddle, distorting the images it caught. Lao glanced down at it and saw his scarred face, slashed with the brilliant green of his eyes. He stood up and walked to the curtain that led to the private booth. He waited.

               Before long a dismayed waiter sidled discreetly up to him. Lao ignored him.

               “Sir? What are you doing—”

               “Shh.” Lao raised a finger. “Could you step just a little closer?”

               “Pardon?”

               “Come a little closer.”

               The waiter walked forward. Lao wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel the nervous pattering of the man’s heart. He threw out his hand and launched the filed chopstick into the man’s throat. The corpse fell to the floor with a gurgle and its blood stuck between the floorboards.

               Lao waited a moment. The screams started, first slowly, then suddenly, then they exploded with impressive consistency. Chairs and tables were overturned as people fled from the restaurant. Hearts beat like hummingbird’s wings. Lao waited in front of the curtain.

               Two metal cables tore through the fabric and shot at Lao’s torso, but Lao twisted to one side, catching one cable in his left hand. He didn’t pull on it. He simply didn’t let go. The metal fell limp in his hands; he refused to allow Lin to control it. There was a clinking sound and his sister walked through the curtain; she’d yanked the cable out of her armour.

               “Hello again,” Lao said softly. He let the cable fall to the ground. “You told them to run? They won’t. She won’t, anyway.”

               Lin glared at him.

               “I’m not here for you,” Lao said. “Not yet.”

               “I don’t care.”

               Lin lunged at Lao, aiming a vicious punch at Lao’s jaw. Lao caught her fist with one hand and jabbed into her abdomen with his other; the metal crunched and splintered on the contact, digging into Lin’s flesh. Lin bit back a scream of pain as Lao squeezed the metal gauntlet into Lin’s hand, the metal turning sideways and slicing deep into her forearm. Lin fell to her knees, one arm useless and spilling crimson blood on the floor.

               “Sorry,” Lao said apologetically, “But you were in the way.”

               He opened his palm and the pointed chopstick leapt eagerly out of the corpse’s throat and back into his hand. His senses flared and he leapt back in time to avoid a searing blast of fire, scorching over Lin’s kneeling form and aimed square in Lao’s chest. He landed back on his feet, graceful as a cat, and smiled. The Avatar and her friends had fanned out in front of Lin, their arms raised and faces grim.

               “You all have parts left to play,” Lao informed them. The Avatar charged first, hurling a blast of wind in Lao’s direction. Lao slid beneath it and leapt to her left, landing to the side of Bolin. The boy barely had time to react before Lao jabbed into his sides with three precise strikes, turning his limbs to jelly. The boy flopped onto his knees and Lao grabbed him by the collar, wrenching him to his feet with brutal strength. Lao twirled the chopstick in his other hand and held it to the boy’s throat. Mako screamed in indiscriminate anguish.

               “Leave him!”

               Lao raised an eyebrow.

               “No.”

               The Avatar glared death at him, but she didn’t move. Neither did her boyfriend.

               “Run away!” This from Bolin, struggling to fight with limbs that refused to work. Lao raised his eyebrows in surprised approval.

               “You should do as he says,” Lao said reasonably, “But you won’t, because if you do I’ll kill him.”

               There was a silence punctuated only by Lin’s choked breathing.

               “Korra, please come here. I’m going to give him to you. Then I’m going to go away. All right?” Lao spoke kindly. Korra glanced at Mako and, seeing the desperation on his face, slowly inched towards the Black Tiger, the man who called himself Freedom.

               She stopped when she was a few feet away from Lao.

               “Closer, Korra. I want to look you in the eye. Get the measure of our new Avatar. That’s all.”

               “Korra, don’t do it!” Lin screamed, lurching sideways before she gasped in pain. She’d lost too much blood. She lay on the ground, clenching her jaw to keep herself from screaming. Lao hadn’t taken his eyes off of Korra.

               “It’s okay,” Korra said, beneath her breath. She was looking at Bolin. “It’s going to be okay, Bo.”

               “You don’t know him!” Lin had pushed herself onto her good arm. “Get back!”

               Korra walked towards Lao. When she was within arm’s reach, Lao tossed Bolin to the ground and embraced Korra as though hugging a lost child, moving with alarming speed.  Korra gasped in horror as he pressed the chopstick to her throat, now. He grabbed her chin with his other hand and wrenched her jaw so that she was looking into his eyes, blue staring into green. Lao smiled.

               “Do you remember me?”

               Behind Korra’s blue eyes there was the faintest hint of long-forgotten black. She shuddered, deep down in her soul.

               “Who are you?” Korra whispered. She’d broken out in a sweat, and her skin was cold as ice to the touch.

               “I’m an old friend,” Lao whispered. “The last time we met I made you a promise. You don’t remember that, either, but I hope you believe me when I say I have never let a promise die.” Korra was clearly only on her feet because Lao was supporting her. Her breath came in gasps.

               “I promised you,” Lao continued, “That one day you would not be able to cheat death. That it would come for you. That the death you failed to bring would be brought to you.”

Lao let her take a step back. The ground began to rumble, slowly groaning as Freedom woke its rage. He smiled, and dust shook from the ceiling beams and fell around him like dark snowflakes. He pushed her back and she fell onto her backside. She was shaking harder than the building around them. Mako rushed to her side, but was knocked into the air by a block of earth that Lao pulled from the earth. He collided with a wall and fell to the ground, barely conscious.

               A scream ripped from the Avatar’s throat. She writhed on the ground, trying to get away from him. She sounded like she was being mauled by a tiger. After a moment she collapsed, as though sleeping, but her breathing was fitful and she was still shaking.

               Lao turned to go, and frowned as an arrow planted itself in the ground in front of his feet. It must’ve been fired from the door. He blinked and saw another arrow, its tip arcing with electricity, flying through the air. Acting on pure instinct, he pulled earth from beneath the floorboards and wrapped himself in a protective cocoon; the explosion knocked Lao off of his feet, but the earth took most of the damage. He stood back up to find himself staring at the Batwoman.

               “Ah. I was wondering when you’d show yourself again. To be honest I’m a little excited.” He smiled like ice and walked towards her. The Batwoman raised her wrist-mounted crossbow again, glaring silently at him from behind a scowling mask. Lao stopped in his tracks and raised his hands, grinning widely.

               The Batwoman fired her crossbow, and Lao ducked in time to avoid the brunt of another explosive tip, showering him in a dusty white powder. He wiped it out of his eyes and hastily blocked a lunging strike from the Batwoman, countering by jabbing at a soft spot in her armour. The Batwoman stepped back and whirled her cape in Lao’s face, tangling his left arm and using the distraction to kick him in the stomach. He trapped her leg with his free arm and rolled her over his shoulder, slamming her onto her back. She scrambled to her feet and raised her fists, breathing heavily. The earthquake’s rumble had grown to a roar. Dust and splintered wood drifted through the air and trembled on the floor.

               Freedom smiled at her and bowed deeply, then spun his arms and descended into the earth, all trace of him gone.

XXX

               Asami stared at the hole Freedom had left, then ran to Lin and heaved her onto her shoulders.

               “Leave me, get the Avatar!”

               Asami ignored her, uncoupling three hooks from her belt. She hooked one to the clothes of Mako, Bolin, and Korra, then bound them all to a rope and dragged them out of the building, her muscles straining in protest.

               She shouldered her way through the main door to the restaurant and gently let Lin down on the ground, before she dragged the rest of them out into the street. Just as the Avatar passed safely beyond the threshold, a beam displaying the restaurant’s sign collapsed. Asami’s heart leapt into her throat. She shook Bolin by the shoulder to wake him up.

               “You need to get the Commissioner to a hospital! If you don’t she’s going to bleed out and die.”

               “What about Korra?”

               “You leave her to me. You can’t help her, but I can. Go, now!”

               Bolin managed to pull himself to his feet. Mako was stirring as well. Asami ignored them and grabbed Korra, pulling her up onto her shoulders. The Avatar was heavy with muscle, but at least she wasn’t wearing any damn metal armour. She needed to get the Avatar to the Bat Spirit. It was the only thing Asami could think of that might be able to save her—but how….

               The amplified microphone in her suit’s ears were picking something up. A faint rumbling, not like the earthquake, but rather a roaring … like a Satomobile’s engine revving beyond reason.

               Asami turned around to see a car—one of _her_ cars—speeding down the street, recklessly ignoring the earthquake. The driver was wearing a make-shift mask made of a black scarf with holes cut in the eyes. It pulled up next to her.

               “Get in.”

               It was Princess Azula. Asami sighed in relief and threw Korra into the car, leaping into the back seat with the Avatar’s prone form. She pulled off her glove and felt her forehead; she was _freezing_. What had Lao _done_ to her?

               “Will the Commissioner be safe?” Azula had apparently noticed she was bleeding.

               “Police cars will be converging here in any moment,” Asami muttered. “I was listening to their radio. Drive. We need to get the Avatar out of here.”

               “As you say, Master Sato.”


End file.
